A Maggot - John Fowles

by John Fowles

  Q. And fell these numbers in lines and columns, as upon a bill or accompt?

  A. No, sir. Among figures.

  Q. What figures?

  A. Us saw one, 'twas a great circle, and another with three sides and marks like the moon.

  Q. How, like the moon?

  A. Like a cheese-rind, sir, or the black in the old moon.

  Q. Upon a curve?

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. With counting numbers beside?

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. Upon that table you saw how many papers such as bore figures and numbers?

  A. Many, sir. A dozen or more, like enough.

  Q. And the size of each paper?

  A. As the gentleman writes on now. And one twice as large.

  Q. Put folio and demi-folio. They were written in ink, by hand? ';

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. Not as letters are printed in a book - they were not pages taken from a book?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Did the gentleman write?

  A. No, sir. Not that us saw.

  Q. Saw you the means - an inkstand, pen or quill?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. And the chest was full of other such papers?

  A. Some, sir. And books, and among them a great clock of brass, without its case.

  Q. A clock - you are sure?

  A. 'Twas so big, sir, like unto the workings of mistress Puddicombe's mantel-clock, when 'tis seen through its back-gate.

  Q. Saw you a dial, hands to mark the hour?

  A. No, sir, for it lay the face down. But us saw a mizmaze of wheels, as in our clock.

  Q. And these books - where were they?

  A. The chest was by the door, sir, with his lid thrown back. 'Twas in shadow, but us peeped in as us went.

  Q. You saw books therein?

  A. Yes, sir. They say now 'twas all gold, 'tis why they were murthered.

  Q. But you know that was not true?

  A. Yes, sir. But they will not believe I.

  Q. No matter. I believe thee, Dorcas. Now I come to Louise, the maid. I would hear what prattle passed between you.

  A. Us spoke a little when I took her to her room, sir. But that was all.

  Q. Of what?

  A. Of how far they had rid, sir. Of where they went. Such things.

  Q. And nothing of herself?

  A. Yes, sir, for I asked. And she said she was brought for maid to a lady to Bideford town, the gentlemens' relation. And as how her old mistress to London was gone abroad, and would not take her. Then she asked if us knew Bideford and I said us

  had been there but once with my father, which is truth, and it is a large town enough, and fine market.

  Q, Did she give her past mistress's name?

  A. She said a name, sir, but us don't mind it now.

  Q. An English name?

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. A lady of title?

  A. No, sir, plain mistress. Us be forgot.

  Q. Did you not ask this Louise whence she came, where she was born?

  A. She said of Bristow city, sir, by her birth. But she had been long in London, maid all her grown life, for her parents were dead. Could sew and dress hair, and how there were good wages for such as she there.

  Q. She asked you nothing of yourself?

  A. Yes, sir. If I liked my mistress, and whether us was happy at work.

  Q. What else?

  A. Us did not talk long, sir. I was called for. And she said she knew us was busy, and would be no burden. That she was very weary, and would sup alone, but us need not care, for he called Dick should bring it above.

  Q. She said nothing of the two gentlemen?

  A. That she had not set eyes on them till ten days before, but her past mistress had spake well of the older.

  Q. What said she of the two menservants?

  A. She said nothing of Farthing, sir. And of the other, Dick, who was deaf and dumb, that he meant no harm and us was not to be afear'd of his looks and ways.

  Q. I would have thee search thy mind, my child. Seemed she truly a lady's maid, as she would have the world believe, or one for some purpose but feigning to be so?

  A. She had London ways, sir. She was well-spoken, and very comely, such eyes a man might die for.

  Q. More like a lady than a maid? Too fair for her station?

  A. I cannot say, sir. But she did say her words somewhat as they do from Bristow.

  Q. You would say, without the airs and manners of a lady? y

  A. Yes, sir. And she did not go to bed after she supped, as she said. For when I came to my own bed an hour or more later, us passed by the younger gentleman's chamber. And she was within.

  Q. You heard her voice?

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. Did you stop and listen?

  A. Yes, sir, begging your pardon. A moment or two, for us was a-wonder to hear her there, when us thought her asleep.

  Q. Could you hear what was said?

  A. The door is thick and they spake low, sir.

  Q. Who spoke most?

  A. The gentleman, sir.

  Q. What made you of this?

  A. That he gave her instructions to please her new mistress, sir.

  Q. You heard such? Thou must tell me what passed.

  A. On my oath, sir. Us tried, but us couldn't.

  Q. Why should he give such instructions at such an hour?

  A. I don't know, sir.

  Q. I ask again. Did you not think: this is no lady's maid?

  A. Us thought it strange they should speak so long, sir.

  Q. How do you know it was long - did you not say you tarried but a moment or two?

  A. So us did, sir. But her chamber was next to I's and Betty's, sir. And we heard her creep in and close the latch before us slept, which was half an hour or more after.

  Q. Did you not think her service might be more to the young gentleman's pleasure than her new mistress at Bideford?

  A. I dursn't say, sir.

  Q. Come, Dorcas, thou art seventeen, brisk and pretty. I'll wager thou hast ten sweethearts already.

  A. yes, sir. I have one, that I shall marry.

  Q. Then spare me thy blushes. Saw you no evidence the next morning that the conversation had been carnal?

  A. I don't know carnal, sir.

  Q. That they had lain between the sheets.

  A. No, sir. For the bed was not slept in.

  Q. Not slept in - you are sure?

  A. Yes, sir. It had been laid upon, but the clothes not taken back, nor nothing.

  Q. And heard you no other person enter this young woman's chamber next to yours?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Nor her leave in the night?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Nor voice nor sound there?

  A. No, sir. Us sleep deep, and Betty the same.

  Q. Seemed she one of ill virtue, a trollop, a harlot?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Did she not perchance tell you that with handsome looks like yours she could find you a far better place and richer vails in London?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Or perchance a tale of woe, of being crossed in love?

  A. Nor that neither, sir.

  Q. Seemed she sad or happy with her lot?

  A. I don't know, sir. 'Twas like she had better stayed where she was than come so far among strangers.

  Q. She said as much?

  A. 'Twas her look that said, sir.

  Q. She smiled not?

  A. But once or twice, sir. Then she seemed else.

  Q. How else? You would say, more skittish and gay?

  A. No, sir. Us don't know how to say.

  Q. Come, girl. I shan't eat thee.

  A. When they had gone, us found a flowered kerchief upon her pillow, like 'twas there for I to find, to please I.

  Q. Where is this cloth now?

  A. My mother made us burn it, sir. When the murthers were known, and the violet man. For she said 'twould bring us ill luck.

  Q. It was of cos
tly stuff?

  A. Yes, sir. Indian cotton, the like, close-worked with blooms and strange small fowl.

  Q. More than a maid might buy?

  A. 'Twas such the Tiverton higgler showed last fairtide, that he said new made in London town, and wouldn't sell ever below three shilling; and said good as the Indian, tho' not, nor against the king's law to wear.

  Q. The next morning did you not ask her what she had been about in the younger gentleman's chamber so long?

  A. No, sir, for us spoke only to say goodbye. 'Twas May Day, and much to do, work for three.

  Q. I am told the man Farthing took liberties with thee, Dorcas.

  A. He would, but I would not 'bide 'em, not I.

  Q. He took you aside?

  A. He came after where I had need to go in the still-room, sir, when us had supped, and tried to embrace I. But when us would not suffer it, he said us should come later where he slept above the stable, and promised I a shilling if I would, and suchlike.

  Q. And you would have none of him?

  A. No, sir. He was much in drink, and I did not care for the mommet, and knew he be liar.

  Q. How so?

  A. That he did speak evil of the other man, called Dick, at supper, that he was half beast and would have his wicked way with us if he had his chance. When he was as bad, or worse. And when us would not take his shilling, he then would come to where us sleep, he said to protect I, but I believed him not.

  Q. And he came not, in the night?

  A. No, sir. Tho' I wish he mought, and had our Betty kiss his head with her cudgel

  Q. Did he tell you he should leave early, before dawn, as I hear?

  A. No, sir, not a word.

  Q. I see thou art an honest maid, Dorcas.. Thou art constant at church?

  A. Yes, sir.

  Q. Be always so. And here's the shilling for thee, that thy honesty lost.

  Jurat die et anno

  supradicto coram

  Henry Ayscough

  Historical Chronicle June 1736

  * * *

  The Examination and Deposition of

  Mr Sampson Beckford

  the which doth attest upon his sworn

  oath, this one and thirtieth day

  of July in the tenth year of the

  reign of our sovereign Lord George the

  second, by the grace of God King of Great

  Britain and of England, &c.

  * * *

  My name is Sampson Beckford. I am clerk, of Wadham College, Oxon., and curate of this parish since Michaelmas two years past. My age is twenty-seven years, I am not married.

  * * *

  Q. I thank you for attending me, sir. I shall take little of your time.

  A. Take all you will, sir. I am at your service.

  Q. I thank you, Mr Beckford. I take it you had never set eyes on Mr Brown or Mr Bartholomew before this 30th of April last?

  A. Most unequivocally not, sir.

  Q. Nor had any expectation, forewarning by letter, I know not what, of their coming here?

  A. Nor that, sir. My calling was inspired by civility. I chanced to see them ride up, I took them for persons of education. Rarissimae aves, Mr Ayscough, in this unhappy town.

  Q. You have my sympathies, sir.

  A. I thought to assure them that they had not arrived in wildest Muscovy, as I doubt not they might well have supposed at the appearance of the place - to show we are not quite without politesse, for all our exile from speakable society.

  Q. You did not meet the younger gentleman?

  A. I did not, sir. His uncle, Mr Brown, told me he was much fatigued, and made his excuses.

  Q. And this uncle - he told you the purpose of their journey was to visit his sister at Bideford?

  A. His allusions were veiled, but I understood him to intimate that his nephew had hitherto foolishly neglected certain expectations of property, since the lady had no descent of her own.

  Q. Did he particularize the nephew's foolishness - of what nature was it?

  A. I can't say that he did, sir. I meant to say that such neglect is always foolish. He made some hint of a life too much given to pleasure, of living above one's means. I recall he used that very phrase.

  Q. That the nephew had outrun his means?

  A. Just so.

  Q. He was reproving of his nephew?

  A. How shall I put it to you, sir? I saw as I thought an uncle and guardian who has led a sober, industrious and Christian life and finds himself obliged to look upon the tares of folly in his own close kin. Though I noted he blamed London in part, and its temptations. I recall he spoke particularly against the licence of the theatres and coffee-houses, and would have had them all closed down.

  Q. He spake of himself?

  A. That he was a London merchant. I presumed of some wealth, since he adverted in passing to one of his ships. And at another time to a friend, alderman of the City.

  Q. But named neither?

  A. Not that I recall.

  Q. Did he declare himself likewise City alderman?

  A. No, sir.

  Q. Now did you not find it strange, Mr Beckford, that this London merchant - I know them well, sir, they are a close breed - should tell you of delicate family business, upon so short an acquaintance?

  A. He ventured no detail, sir. I took it as a compliment to my cloth. That he owed me as a gentleman some small explanation of their presence here.

  Q. But he was gentleman by wealth rather than breeding?

  A. Exactly so, sir. My own impression. A worthy man, but not of true refinement. He asked me of my cure here, which was civil. But when, by way of modestly alluding to my sense that my merits are somewhat wasted in this place, I ventured an apt line or two of the poet Ovid, I think he was taken somewhat at a loss.

  Q. He knew more of counting-houses than of classical tongues?

  A. I deemed it so.

  Q. But what think you now, Mr Beckford? You know search was lately made for this lady his sister, and none found?

  A. I do, and am entirely at a loss. Why a man of such seeming substance and honesty should go to such prevaricating lengths to mislead me - suffice it to say I have thought much on it. His real purpose was evidently not one that could be told strangers. I fear me, because it was evil.

  Q. Others here marked that on occasion it was the feigned repentant nephew who gave instructions and took precedence, while the uncle stood by. What say you to that?

  A. I have heard it since, sir. And I must tell you that when I first watched them from my window as they came to this inn, and speculated as to their business here, I confess but idly, yet be that as it may - I did not then suppose them by their manner uncle and nephew.

  Q. But what?

  A. I could not say, sir. I put no clear name to it. I thought rather a young gentleman and an older one of your own honourable profession, it may be on some affair of legal aspect. Perhaps a tutor. I truly could not say, save that the conjecture of a blood relationship did not enter my mind. I fancy I was somewhat surprised to learn it when I waited upon them.

  Q. What manner of speaking had Mr Brown?

  A. A grave, plain manner, without flowers or figures. Well enough.

  Q. You had no suspicion that something illicit or unseemly was afoot?

  A. I confess not, sir. I took him at his word. The circumstances were not such as to provoke my incredulity. The case is common enough.

  Q. Spake you both, in this conversation, more of his affairs or of your own?

  A. Your question is well asked, sir. I have thought on that, also. I believe he may have led me to speak more of myself than either my natural inclination wished or strict politeness; allows.

  Q. If I may put it thus bluntly, you were somewhat his gull it this?

  A. He would know of my hopes and disappointments, then of the state of religion in this godless place. I have the misfortune to be a youngest son, Mr Ayscough. We are afflicted with schism here, to a most wicked degree, and it is much on m
) mind. I confess that if invited by a sympathetic listener, I dc not stint the expression of my loyal abhorrences. I fear it was so that evening.

  Q. He sympathized with your views - would hear more of them?

  A. He did, sir, and even did me the honour of wishing there were more who held them as strongly. And regretted he could not stay to hear a sermon I was to preach that coming Sunday, in which I do myself the justice to say that I handsomely refuted the pernicious arguments of those who would deprive us of our tithes. You would perhaps care to peruse a copy of it I chance to have retained?

  Q. I should esteem that honour, sir.

  A. I will have my man bring it, as soon as I return home.

  Q. I thank you. But now, Mr Beckford, I must sow a seed of doubt in your mind. Do you not know that the City is Whig to a man? That most would never embrace what I understand to be your worthy sentiments upon religion? That respect of ancient principle, save that of their own secular right, holds little place among them? That many have room for only one god in their world, that is Mammon, to wit, their own profit; and will flout all that doth threaten to hobble or trammel it. Did you not find it strange that this merchant should show such sympathy for your own views?

  A. I must confess myself his dupe, sir. Alas, I know indeed of these matters, and how such would tolerate our nonconformists and schismatics to a most reprehensible degree; but here I believed I had stumbled upon a happy exception to this general rule.

  Q, Might not this merchant uncle have been in truth a man of law - since we have some skill in directing a train of discourse? I pray you, think, sir. Does this bear root in your

  recollection?

  A. He had not your manner, sir. With respect.

  Q. But allowing for the circumstance that he was or might have been, for some reason unknown, obliged to conceal his ordinary manner and that you were shown but a plausible screen, not what truly lay behind?

  A, By such hypothesis it is possible, sir. Yes, it is possible he but played a part. I can say no more.

  Q. Id est, he was one trained to deceive, and even a gentleman so perspicuous and educated as yourself, sir? He spake, would you say, in a natural fashion - not as one who has affairs to hide, in a low voice, or such?

  A. As I say, sir. With some gravity, yet I thought openly. As one accustomed to speak his mind on public matters in public places.

  Q. I would have you describe him to me.