CHAPTER XII
A MAN JUSTLY POPULAR
Now although Mr. Faggus was so clever, and generous, and celebrated,I know not whether, upon the whole, we were rather proud of him as amember of our family, or inclined to be ashamed of him. And indeed Ithink that the sway of the balance hung upon the company we were in. Forinstance, with the boys at Brendon--for there is no village at Oare--Iwas exceeding proud to talk of him, and would freely brag of my CousinTom. But with the rich parsons of the neighbourhood, or the justices(who came round now and then, and were glad to ride up to a warmfarm-house), or even the well-to-do tradesmen of Porlock--in a word, anysettled power, which was afraid of losing things--with all of them wewere very shy of claiming our kinship to that great outlaw.
And sure, I should pity, as well as condemn him though our ways in theworld were so different, knowing as I do his story; which knowledge,methinks, would often lead us to let alone God's prerogative--judgment,and hold by man's privilege--pity. Not that I would find excuse forTom's downright dishonesty, which was beyond doubt a disgrace to him,and no credit to his kinsfolk; only that it came about without hismeaning any harm or seeing how he took to wrong; yet gradually knowingit. And now, to save any further trouble, and to meet those whodisparage him (without allowance for the time or the crosses laid uponhim), I will tell the history of him, just as if he were not my cousin,and hoping to be heeded. And I defy any man to say that a word of thisis either false, or in any way coloured by family. Much cause he hadto be harsh with the world; and yet all acknowledged him very pleasant,when a man gave up his money. And often and often he paid the toll forthe carriage coming after him, because he had emptied their pockets, andwould not add inconvenience. By trade he had been a blacksmith, in thetown of Northmolton, in Devonshire, a rough rude place at the end ofExmoor, so that many people marvelled if such a man was bred there. Notonly could he read and write, but he had solid substance; a piece ofland worth a hundred pounds, and right of common for two hundred sheep,and a score and a half of beasts, lifting up or lying down. And beingleft an orphan (with all these cares upon him) he began to work rightearly, and made such a fame at the shoeing of horses, that the farriersof Barum were like to lose their custom. And indeed he won a goldenJacobus for the best-shod nag in the north of Devon, and some say thathe never was forgiven.
As to that, I know no more, except that men are jealous. But whetherit were that, or not, he fell into bitter trouble within a month of hisvictory; when his trade was growing upon him, and his sweetheart readyto marry him. For he loved a maid of Southmolton (a currier's daughterI think she was, and her name was Betsy Paramore), and her father hadgiven consent; and Tom Faggus, wishing to look his best, and be clean ofcourse, had a tailor at work upstairs for him, who had come all the wayfrom Exeter. And Betsy's things were ready too--for which they accusedhim afterwards, as if he could help that--when suddenly, like athunderbolt, a lawyer's writ fell upon him.
This was the beginning of a law-suit with Sir Robert Bampfylde, agentleman of the neighbourhood, who tried to oust him from his common,and drove his cattle and harassed them. And by that suit of law poor Tomwas ruined altogether, for Sir Robert could pay for much swearing; andthen all his goods and his farm were sold up, and even his smitherytaken. But he saddled his horse, before they could catch him, and rodeaway to Southmolton, looking more like a madman than a good farrier,as the people said who saw him. But when he arrived there, instead ofcomfort, they showed him the face of the door alone; for the news of hisloss was before him, and Master Paramore was a sound, prudent man, anda high member of the town council. It is said that they even gave himnotice to pay for Betsy's wedding-clothes, now that he was too poor tomarry her. This may be false, and indeed I doubt it; in the first place,because Southmolton is a busy place for talking; and in the next, thatI do not think the action would have lain at law, especially as themaid lost nothing, but used it all for her wedding next month with DickVellacott, of Mockham.
All this was very sore upon Tom; and he took it to heart so grievously,that he said, as a better man might have said, being loose of mind andproperty, 'The world hath preyed on me like a wolf. God help me now toprey on the world.'
And in sooth it did seem, for a while, as if Providence were with him;for he took rare toll on the highway, and his name was soon as good asgold anywhere this side of Bristowe. He studied his business by nightand by day, with three horses all in hard work, until he had made a finereputation and then it was competent to him to rest, and he had plentyleft for charity. And I ought to say for society too, for he trulyloved high society, treating squires and noblemen (who much affected hiscompany) to the very best fare of the hostel. And they say that oncethe King's Justitiaries, being upon circuit, accepted his invitation,declaring merrily that if never true bill had been found against him,mine host should now be qualified to draw one. And so the landlords did;and he always paid them handsomely, so that all of them were kind tohim, and contended for his visits. Let it be known in any township thatMr. Faggus was taking his leisure at the inn, and straightway all themen flocked thither to drink his health without outlay, and all thewomen to admire him; while the children were set at the cross-roads togive warning of any officers. One of his earliest meetings was with SirRobert Bampfylde himself, who was riding along the Barum road with onlyone serving-man after him. Tom Faggus put a pistol to his head, beingthen obliged to be violent, through want of reputation while theserving-man pretended to be along way round the corner. Then the baronetpulled out his purse, quite trembling in the hurry of his politeness.Tom took the purse, and his ring, and time-piece, and then handed themback with a very low bow, saying that it was against all usage for himto rob a robber. Then he turned to the unfaithful knave, and trouncedhim right well for his cowardice, and stripped him of all his property.
But now Mr. Faggus kept only one horse, lest the Government should stealthem; and that one was the young mare Winnie. How he came by her henever would tell, but I think that she was presented to him by a certainColonel, a lover of sport, and very clever in horseflesh, whose life Tomhad saved from some gamblers. When I have added that Faggus as yethad never been guilty of bloodshed (for his eyes, and the click ofhis pistol at first, and now his high reputation made all his wishesrespected), and that he never robbed a poor man, neither insulted awoman, but was very good to the Church, and of hot patriotic opinions,and full of jest and jollity, I have said as much as is fair for him,and shown why he was so popular. Everybody cursed the Doones, who livedapart disdainfully. But all good people liked Mr. Faggus--when he hadnot robbed them--and many a poor sick man or woman blessed him for otherpeople's money; and all the hostlers, stable-boys, and tapsters entirelyworshipped him.
I have been rather long, and perhaps tedious, in my account of him, lestat any time hereafter his character should be misunderstood, and hisgood name disparaged; whereas he was my second cousin, and the lover ofmy--But let that bide. 'Tis a melancholy story.
He came again about three months afterwards, in the beginning of thespring-time, and brought me a beautiful new carbine, having learned mylove of such things, and my great desire to shoot straight. But motherwould not let me have the gun, until he averred upon his honour that hehad bought it honestly. And so he had, no doubt, so far as it is honestto buy with money acquired rampantly. Scarce could I stop to make mybullets in the mould which came along with it, but must be off to theQuarry Hill, and new target I had made there. And he taught me thenhow to ride bright Winnie, who was grown since I had seen her, butremembered me most kindly. After making much of Annie, who had awondrous liking for him--and he said he was her godfather, but God knowshow he could have been, unless they confirmed him precociously--away hewent, and young Winnie's sides shone like a cherry by candlelight.
Now I feel that of those boyish days I have little more to tell, becauseeverything went quietly, as the world for the most part does with us. Ibegan to work at the farm in earnest, and tried to help my mother, andwhen I remembered Lorna Doone, it seem
ed no more than the thought of adream, which I could hardly call to mind. Now who cares to know how manybushels of wheat we grew to the acre, or how the cattle milched till weate them, or what the turn of the seasons was? But my stupid self seemedlike to be the biggest of all the cattle; for having much to look afterthe sheep, and being always in kind appetite, I grew four inches longerin every year of my farming, and a matter of two inches wider; untilthere was no man of my size to be seen elsewhere upon Exmoor. Let thatpass: what odds to any how tall or wide I be? There is no Doone's doorat Plover's Barrows and if there were I could never go through it. Theyvexed me so much about my size, long before I had completed it, girdingat me with paltry jokes whose wit was good only to stay at home, thatI grew shame-faced about the matter, and feared to encounter alooking-glass. But mother was very proud, and said she never could havetoo much of me.
The worst of all to make me ashamed of bearing my head so high--a thingI saw no way to help, for I never could hang my chin down, and my backwas like a gatepost whenever I tried to bend it--the worst of all wasour little Eliza, who never could come to a size herself, though she hadthe wine from the Sacrament at Easter and Allhallowmas, only to be smalland skinny, sharp, and clever crookedly. Not that her body was out ofthe straight (being too small for that perhaps), but that her wit wasfull of corners, jagged, and strange, and uncomfortable. You never couldtell what she might say next; and I like not that kind of women. Now Godforgive me for talking so of my own father's daughter, and so much themore by reason that my father could not help it. The right way isto face the matter, and then be sorry for every one. My mother fellgrievously on a slide, which John Fry had made nigh the apple-room door,and hidden with straw from the stable, to cover his own great idleness.My father laid John's nose on the ice, and kept him warm in spite of it;but it was too late for Eliza. She was born next day with more mind thanbody--the worst thing that can befall a man.
But Annie, my other sister, was now a fine fair girl, beautiful tobehold. I could look at her by the fireside, for an hour together, whenI was not too sleepy, and think of my dear father. And she would do thesame thing by me, only wait the between of the blazes. Her hair was doneup in a knot behind, but some would fall over her shoulders; and thedancing of the light was sweet to see through a man's eyelashes. Therenever was a face that showed the light or the shadow of feeling, as ifthe heart were sun to it, more than our dear Annie's did. To look at hercarefully, you might think that she was not dwelling on anything; andthen she would know you were looking at her, and those eyes would tellall about it. God knows that I try to be simple enough, to keep to Hismeaning in me, and not make the worst of His children. Yet often have Ibeen put to shame, and ready to bite my tongue off, after speaking amissof anybody, and letting out my littleness, when suddenly mine eyes havemet the pure soft gaze of Annie.
As for the Doones, they were thriving still, and no one to come againstthem; except indeed by word of mouth, to which they lent no heedwhatever. Complaints were made from time to time, both in high and lowquarters (as the rank might be of the people robbed), and once or twicein the highest of all, to wit, the King himself. But His Majesty madea good joke about it (not meaning any harm, I doubt), and was so muchpleased with himself thereupon, that he quite forgave the mischief.Moreover, the main authorities were a long way off; and the Chancellorhad no cattle on Exmoor; and as for my lord the Chief Justice, somerogue had taken his silver spoons; whereupon his lordship swore thatnever another man would he hang until he had that one by the neck.Therefore the Doones went on as they listed, and none saw fit to meddlewith them. For the only man who would have dared to come to closequarters with them, that is to say Tom Faggus, himself was a quarry forthe law, if ever it should be unhooded. Moreover, he had transferred hisbusiness to the neighbourhood of Wantage, in the county of Berks, wherehe found the climate drier, also good downs and commons excellent forgalloping, and richer yeomen than ours be, and better roads to rob themon.
Some folk, who had wiser attended to their own affairs, said that I(being sizeable now, and able to shoot not badly) ought to do somethingagainst those Doones, and show what I was made of. But for a time I wasvery bashful, shaking when called upon suddenly, and blushing as deep asa maiden; for my strength was not come upon me, and mayhap I had grownin front of it. And again, though I loved my father still, and wouldfire at a word about him, I saw not how it would do him good for me toharm his injurers. Some races are of revengeful kind, and will for yearspursue their wrong, and sacrifice this world and the next for amoment's foul satisfaction, but methinks this comes of some black blood,perverted and never purified. And I doubt but men of true English birthare stouter than so to be twisted, though some of the women may takethat turn, if their own life runs unkindly.
Let that pass--I am never good at talking of things beyond me. All Iknow is, that if I had met the Doone who had killed my father, I wouldgladly have thrashed him black and blue, supposing I were able; butwould never have fired a gun at him, unless he began that game with me,or fell upon more of my family, or were violent among women. And todo them justice, my mother and Annie were equally kind and gentle, butEliza would flame and grow white with contempt, and not trust herself tospeak to us.
Now a strange thing came to pass that winter, when I was twenty-oneyears old, a very strange thing, which affrighted the rest, and made mefeel uncomfortable. Not that there was anything in it, to do harm to anyone, only that none could explain it, except by attributing it to thedevil. The weather was very mild and open, and scarcely any snow fell;at any rate, none lay on the ground, even for an hour, in the highestpart of Exmoor; a thing which I knew not before nor since, as long asI can remember. But the nights were wonderfully dark, as though with nostars in the heaven; and all day long the mists were rolling uponthe hills and down them, as if the whole land were a wash-house. Themoorland was full of snipes and teal, and curlews flying and crying, andlapwings flapping heavily, and ravens hovering round dead sheep; yet noredshanks nor dottrell, and scarce any golden plovers (of which we havegreat store generally) but vast lonely birds, that cried at night, andmoved the whole air with their pinions; yet no man ever saw them. It wasdismal as well as dangerous now for any man to go fowling (which of lateI loved much in the winter) because the fog would come down so thickthat the pan of the gun was reeking, and the fowl out of sight ere thepowder kindled, and then the sound of the piece was so dead, that theshooter feared harm, and glanced over his shoulder. But the danger ofcourse was far less in this than in losing of the track, and fallinginto the mires, or over the brim of a precipice.
Nevertheless, I must needs go out, being young and very stupid, andfeared of being afraid; a fear which a wise man has long cast by, havinglearned of the manifold dangers which ever and ever encompass us. Andbeside this folly and wildness of youth, perchance there was something,I know not what, of the joy we have in uncertainty. Mother, in fearof my missing home--though for that matter, I could smell supper, whenhungry, through a hundred land-yards of fog--my dear mother, who thoughtof me ten times for one thought about herself, gave orders to ring thegreat sheep-bell, which hung above the pigeon-cote, every ten minutes ofthe day, and the sound came through the plaits of fog, and I was vexedabout it, like the letters of a copy-book. It reminded me, too, ofBlundell's bell, and the grief to go into school again.
But during those two months of fog (for we had it all the winter), thesaddest and the heaviest thing was to stand beside the sea. To be uponthe beach yourself, and see the long waves coming in; to know that theyare long waves, but only see a piece of them; and to hear them liftingroundly, swelling over smooth green rocks, plashing down in the hollowcorners, but bearing on all the same as ever, soft and sleek andsorrowful, till their little noise is over.
One old man who lived at Lynmouth, seeking to be buried there, havingbeen more than half over the world, though shy to speak about it, andfain to come home to his birthplace, this old Will Watcombe (who dweltby the water) said that our strange winter arose from a thing
he calledthe 'Gulf-stream', rushing up Channel suddenly. He said it was hotwater, almost fit for a man to shave with, and it threw all our coldwater out, and ruined the fish and the spawning-time, and a cold springwould come after it. I was fond of going to Lynmouth on Sunday to hearthis old man talk, for sometimes he would discourse with me, when nobodyelse could move him. He told me that this powerful flood set in upon ourwest so hard sometimes once in ten years, and sometimes not for fifty,and the Lord only knew the sense of it; but that when it came, therewithcame warmth and clouds, and fog, and moisture, and nuts, and fruit, andeven shells; and all the tides were thrown abroad. As for nuts he winkedawhile, and chewed a piece of tobacco; yet did I not comprehend him.Only afterwards I heard that nuts with liquid kernels came, travellingon the Gulf stream; for never before was known so much foreign cordiallanded upon our coast, floating ashore by mistake in the fog, and (whatwith the tossing and the mist) too much astray to learn its duty.
Folk, who are ever too prone to talk, said that Will Watcombe himselfknew better than anybody else about this drift of the Gulf-stream,and the places where it would come ashore, and the caves that took thein-draught. But De Whichehalse, our great magistrate, certified thatthere was no proof of unlawful importation neither good cause tosuspect it, at a time of Christian charity. And we knew that it was afoul thing for some quarrymen to say that night after night they hadbeen digging a new cellar at Ley Manor to hold the little marks ofrespect found in the caverns at high-water weed. Let that be, it is noneof my business to speak evil of dignities; duly we common people jokedof the 'Gulp-stream,' as we called it.
But the thing which astonished and frightened us so, was not, I doassure you, the landing of foreign spirits, nor the loom of a lugger attwilight in the gloom of the winter moonrise. That which made as crouchin by the fire, or draw the bed-clothes over us, and try to think ofsomething else, was a strange mysterious sound.
At grey of night, when the sun was gone, and no red in the westremained, neither were stars forthcoming, suddenly a wailing voice rosealong the valleys, and a sound in the air, as of people running. Itmattered not whether you stood on the moor, or crouched behind rocksaway from it, or down among reedy places; all as one the sound wouldcome, now from the heart of the earth beneath, now overhead bearingdown on you. And then there was rushing of something by, and melancholylaughter, and the hair of a man would stand on end before he couldreason properly.
God, in His mercy, knows that I am stupid enough for any man, and veryslow of impression, nor ever could bring myself to believe that ourFather would let the evil one get the upper hand of us. But when I hadheard that sound three times, in the lonely gloom of the evening fog,and the cold that followed the lines of air, I was loath to go abroad bynight, even so far as the stables, and loved the light of a candle more,and the glow of a fire with company.
There were many stories about it, of course, all over the breadth of themoorland. But those who had heard it most often declared that it must bethe wail of a woman's voice, and the rustle of robes fleeing horribly,and fiends in the fog going after her. To that, however, I paid no heed,when anybody was with me; only we drew more close together, and barredthe doors at sunset.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 13
