Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XXVII

  FAIR IN THEORY

  One Saturday evening, when the dusk was just beginning to smoothe thebreak of billow and to blunt the edge of rock, young Dan Tugwell swunghis axe upon his shoulder, with the flag basket hanging from it in whichhis food had been, and in a rather crusty state of mind set forth uponhis long walk home to Springhaven. As Harry Shanks had said, andalmost everybody knew, an ancient foot-path, little used, but never yetobstructed, cut off a large bend of the shore, and saved half a mileof plodding over rock and shingle. This path was very lonesome, andinfested with dark places, as well as waylaid with a very piteous ghost,who never would keep to the spot where he was murdered, but might appearat any shady stretch or woody corner. Dan Tugwell knew three courageousmen who had seen this ghost, and would take good care to avoid anyfurther interview, and his own faith in ghosts was as stanch as in gold;yet such was his mood this evening that he determined to go that wayand chance it, not for the saving of distance, but simply because hehad been told in the yard that day that the foot-path was stopped by thelandowner. "We'll see about that," said Dan; and now he was going to seeabout it.

  For the first field or two there was no impediment, except the usualstile or gate; but when he had crossed a little woodland hollow, wherethe fence of the castle grounds ran down to the brow of the cliff, hefound entrance barred. Three stout oak rails had been nailed acrossfrom tree to tree, and on a board above them was roughly painted: "Nothoroughfare. Tresspassers will be prosecuted." For a moment the youngman hesitated, his dread of the law being virtuously deep, and hismind well assured that his father would not back him up against settledauthorities. But the shame of turning back, and the quick sense ofwrong, which had long been demanding some outlet, conquered his calmerjudgment, and he cast the basket from his back. Then swinging hisfavourite axe, he rushed at the oaken bars, and with a few strokes sentthem rolling down the steep bank-side.

  "That for your stoppage of a right of way!" he cried; "and now perhapsyou'll want to know who done it."

  To gratify this natural curiosity he drew a piece of chalk from hispocket, and wrote on the notice-board in large round hand, "DanielTugwell, son of Zebedee Tugwell, of Springhaven." But suddenly his smileof satisfaction fled, and his face turned as white as the chalk in hishand. At the next turn of the path, a few yards before him, in the graygloom cast by an ivy-mantled tree, stood a tall dark figure, with theright arm raised. The face was indistinct, but (as Dan's consciencetold him) hostile and unforgiving; there was nothing to reflect a rayof light, and there seemed to be a rustle of some departure, like thespirit fleeing.

  The ghost! What could it be but the ghost? Ghosts ought to be white; butterror scorns all prejudice. Probably this murdered one was buried inhis breeches. Dan's heart beat quicker than his axe had struck; and hisfeet were off to beat the ground still quicker. But no Springhaven ladever left his baggage. Dan leaped aside first to catch up his basket,and while he stooped for it, he heard a clear strong voice.

  "Who are you, that have dared to come and cut my fence down?"

  No ghost could speak like that, even if he could put a fence up. Theinborn courage of the youth revived, and the shame of his fright madehim hardier. He stepped forward again, catching breath as he spoke, andeager to meet any man in the flesh.

  "I am Daniel Tugwell, of Springhaven. And no living man shall deny me ofmy rights. I have a right to pass here, and I mean to do it."

  Caryl Carne, looking stately in his suit of black velvet, drew sword andstood behind the shattered barrier. "Are you ready to run against this?"he asked. "Poor peasant, go back; what are your rights worth?"

  "I could smash that skewer at a blow," said Daniel, flourishing his axeas if to do it; "but my rights, as you say, are not worth the hazard.What has a poor man to do with rights? Would you stop a man of your ownrank, Squire Carne?"

  "Ah, that would be a different thing indeed! Justice wears a sword,because she is of gentle birth. Work-people with axes must not prateof rights, or a prison will be their next one. Your right is to bedisdained, young man, because you were not born a gentleman; and yourduty is to receive scorn with your hat off. You like it, probably,because your father did. But come in, Daniel; I will not deny you of theonly right an English peasant has--the right of the foot to plod inhis father's footsteps. The right of the hand, and the tongue, and thestomach--even the right of the eye is denied him; but by some freak oflaw he has some little right of foot, doubtless to enable him to go andserve his master."

  Dan was amazed, and his better sense aroused. Why should this gentlemanstep out of the rank of his birth, to talk in this way? Now and then Danhimself had indulged in such ideas, but always with a doubt that theywere wicked, and not long enough to make them seem good in his eyes. Heknew that some fellows at "the Club" talked thus; but they were a lot ofidle strangers, who came there chiefly to corrupt the natives, and workthe fish trade out of their hands. These wholesome reflections made himdoubt about accepting Squire Carne's invitation; and it would have beengood for him if that doubt had prevailed, though he trudged a thousandmiles for it.

  "What! Break down a fence, and then be afraid to enter! That is thestyle of your race, friend Daniel. That is why you never get yourrights, even when you dare to talk of them. I thought you were made ofdifferent stuff. Go home and boast that you shattered my fence, andthen feared to come through it, when I asked you." Carne smiled at hisantagonist, and waved his hand.

  Dan leaped in a moment through the hanging splinters, and stood beforethe other, with a frown upon his face. "Then mind one thing, sir," hesaid, with a look of defiance, while touching his hat from force ofhabit, "I pass here, not with your permission, but of right."

  "Very well. Let us not split words," said Carne, who had now quiterecovered his native language. "I am glad to find a man that dares toclaim his rights, in the present state of England. I am going towardsSpringhaven. Give me the pleasure of your company, and the benefit ofyour opinion upon politics. I have heard the highest praise of yourabilities, my friend. Speak to me just as you would to one of yourbrother fishermen. By the accident of birth I am placed differently fromyou; and in this country that makes all the difference between a manand a dog, in our value. Though you may be, and probably are, the betterman--more truthful, more courageous, more generous, more true-hearted,and certain to be the more humble of the two. I have been brought upwhere all men are equal, and the things I see here make a new world tome. Very likely these are right, and all the rest of the world quitewrong. Englishmen always are certain of that; and as I belong to theprivileged classes, my great desire is to believe it. Only I want toknow how the lower orders--the dregs, the scum, the dirt under ourfeet, the slaves that do all the work and get starved for it--how thesetrampled wretches regard the question. If they are happy, submissive,contented, delighted to lick the boots of their betters, my consciencewill be clear to accept their homage, and their money for any stickof mine they look at. But you have amazed me by a most outrageous act.Because the lower orders have owned a path here for some centuries, youthink it wrong that they should lose their right. Explain to me, Daniel,these extraordinary sentiments."

  "If you please, sir," said Dan, who was following in the track, thoughinvited to walk by the side, of Caryl Carne, "I can hardly tell you howthe lower orders feel, because father and me don't belong to them. Ourfamily have always owned their own boat, and worked for their own hand,this two hundred years, and, for all we know, ever since the Romans washere. We call them the lower orders, as come round to pick up jobs, andhave no settlement in our village."

  "A sound and very excellent distinction, Dan. But as against those whomake the laws, and take good care to enforce them, even you (though ofthe upper rank here) must be counted of the lower order. For instance,can you look at a pheasant, or a hare, without being put into prison?Can you dine in the same room with Admiral Darling, or ask how his goutis, without being stared at?"

  "No, sir. He would think it a great impertinence,
even if I dared to dosuch a thing. But my father might do it, as a tenant and old neighbour.Though he never gets the gout, when he rides about so much."

  "What a matter-of-fact youth it is! But to come to things every man hasa right to. If you saved the life of one of the Admiral's daughters,and she fell in love with you, as young people will, would you dare evenlift your eyes to her? Would you not be kicked out of the house and theparish, if you dared to indulge the right of every honest heart?Would you dare to look upon her as a human being, of the same order ofcreation as yourself, who might one day be your wife, if you were trueand honest, and helped to break down the absurd distinctions built up byvile tyranny between you? In a word, are you a man--as every man is onthe Continent--or only an English slave, of the lower classes?"

  The hot flush of wrath, and the soft glow of shame, met and deepenedeach other on the fair cheeks of this "slave"; while his mind wouldnot come to him to make a fit reply. That his passion for Dolly, hishopeless passion, should thus be discovered by a man of her own rank,but not scorned or ridiculed, only pitied, because of his want of manlyspirit; that he should be called a "slave" because of honest modesty,and even encouraged in his wild hopes by a gentleman, who had seen allthe world, and looked down from a lofty distance on it; that in histrue estimate of things there should be nothing but prejudice, low andselfish prejudice, between--Well, he could not think it out; that wouldtake him many hours; let this large-minded man begin again. It was sodark now, that if he turned round on him, unless he was a cat, he wouldbe no wiser.

  "You do well to take these things with some doubt," continued Carne, toosagacious to set up argument, which inures even young men in their ownopinions; "if I were in your place, I should do the same. Centuries ofoppression have stamped out the plain light of truth in those who arenot allowed it. To me, as an individual, it is better so. Chance hasordained that I should belong to the order of those who profit by it.It is against my interest to speak as I have done. Am I likely to desirethat my fences should be broken, my property invaded, the distinction sopleasing to me set aside, simply because I consider it a false one? No,no, friend Daniel; it is not for me to move. The present state of thingsis entirely in my favour. And I never give expression to my sense ofright and wrong, unless it is surprised from me by circumstances. Yourbold and entirely just proceedings have forced me to explain why Ifeel no resentment, but rather admiration, at a thing which any otherland-owner in England would not rest in his bed until he had avenged. Hewould drag you before a bench of magistrates and fine you. Your father,if I know him, would refuse to pay the fine; and to prison you wouldgo, with the taint of it to lie upon your good name forever. The penaltywould be wrong, outrageous, ruinous; no rich man would submit to it, buta poor man must. Is this the truth, Daniel, or is it what it ought tobe--a scandalous misdescription of the laws of England?"

  "No, sir; it is true enough, and too true, I am afraid. I never thoughtof consequences, when I used my axe. I only thought of what was right,and fair, and honest, as between a man who has a right, and one whotakes it from him."

  "That is the natural way to look at things, but never permitted inthis country. You are fortunate in having to deal with one who has beenbrought up in a juster land, where all mankind are equal. But one thingI insist upon; and remember it is the condition of my forbearance. Nota single word to any one about your dashing exploit. No gentleman in thecounty would ever speak to me again, if I were known to have put up withit."

  "I am sure, sir," said Daniel, in a truly contrite tone, "I never shouldhave done such an impudent thing against you, if I had only known what anice gentleman you are. I took you for nothing but a haughty land-owner,without a word to fling at a poor fisherman. And now you go ever so farbeyond what the Club doth, in speaking of the right that every poor manhasn't. I could listen to you by the hour, sir, and learn the differencebetween us and abroad."

  "Tugwell, I could tell you things that would make a real man of you. Butwhy should I? You are better as you are; and so are we who get all thegood out of you. And besides, I have no time for politics at present.All my time is occupied with stern business--collecting the ruins of myproperty."

  "But, sir--but you come down here sometimes from the castle in theevening; and if I might cross, without claiming right of way, sometimesI might have the luck to meet you."

  "Certainly you may pass, as often as you please, and so may anybody whosets value on his rights. And if I should meet you again, I shall beglad of it. You can open my eyes, doubtless, quite as much as I canyours. Good-night, my friend, and better fortunes to you!"

  "It was worth my while to nail up those rails," Carne said to himself,as he went home to his ruins. "I have hooked that clod, as firm as everhe hooked a cod. But, thousand thunders! what does he mean, by goingaway without touching his hat to me?"