Berry Scene

by Dornford Yates

  “The price of what, sir?” snapped the Colonel, whose face was red.

  “Devotion to duty,” said Berry. “I’d meant to keep it a secret; but now you’ve found out.”

  “What the devil d’you mean, sir?”

  “Observe my state,” said Berry. “D’you think I’m enjoying myself?”

  The Colonel started, and Berry went quietly on.

  “For some time now, it has been apparent to me that the hand of the Riding Hood Bench would be immensely strengthened, if one of its members knew something of motoring. Week after week, we have to listen to excuses by motorists which we believe to be lies, but which we cannot ignore, because we lack the experience which motorists have. I, therefore, decided that, as the youngest of the Justices, it was my duty to acquire a degree of expert knowledge which none of us have. I’ve already found out a great deal. In the first place, twenty miles an hour is excessive. Fifteen is quite enough. Then, again—”

  “I’ve always said so,” cried the Colonel. “But those blasted fools of politicians—”

  “Exactly,” said Berry. “And why? Because, when that limit was fixed, not two per cent, of the House had cars of their own.’,

  “I’ve no doubt you’re right, sir,” said the Colonel. He smiled a grim smile. “And something else you’ve found out – that the stinking machines break down.”

  “And this is nothing,” said Berry. “A common occurrence, I’m told. The chauffeur’s worn out, and so I’ve been lending a hand. I don’t like to ask my cousins, because it’s really my fault.”

  Here the Colonel turned and saw us and raised his hat.

  “How d’you do, Mrs Pleydell. How d’you do, you two.” His brows drew into a frown. “Nothing to do with me, but I should have thought that Pleydell had done enough.” He returned to Berry. “I can’t send you help, can I?”

  “No, thank you, Colonel. Another half-hour, and we shall be under way. Experience is always costly: but after a week or so, I think I ought to be able to be of some help.”

  “Very public-spirited of you, Pleydell. I’m sure the Chairman will think so. He’s dining with me tonight.” Again he raised his hat. “Goodbye, Mrs Pleydell. Don’t let him wear himself out.”

  Ignoring Jonah and me, he touched the grey with his whip…

  As the dog-cart swung round a bend, Berry crossed the road and lay down on his back.

  “You heard what he said,” he said unctuously.

  Ten minutes later, we all re-entered the car…

  As my cousin let in the clutch—

  “Now for God’s sake be careful,” said Berry. “The moment you see the dog-cart, slow down and turn off. I’ve sown the zephyr, but I’m not reaping any whirlwinds. After two miles of our dust, he might revise his opinion of my self-sacrifice.”

  “And if there’s no turning,” said Jonah, changing gear.

  “Then we must wait,” said Berry. “Once we’re past the old fool, cry Havoc! and let her rip. But I will not have my winnings cast into the draught.”

  Here a sinister jarring declared that a tire was flat – the tire we had just put on.

  “You needn’t worry,” said Jonah. “By the time we’ve done it again, he’ll be out of the way.”

  With that, once again he brought the car to rest.

  As Fitch left his seat—

  “‘Done it again?’” screamed Berry. “Oh, give me strength. And what’s the matter with the swine? We’ve only gone half a mile.”

  “It’s a puncture,” said I. “Not a burst. We shan’t have to change the tire.”

  “Shall we have to inflate it?”

  “Of course. The air you put in has escaped.”

  Berry covered his face.

  “Come on,” said Daphne. “They want to get at the tools.”

  As Berry left the car—

  “This, I may say,” said Jonah, “is pure misfortune.”

  “Is it, indeed?” said Berry. “Well, if this is pure, I hope we shan’t meet some obscene.”

  “What I mean is that it’s unusual. When we came down on Monday we had no trouble at all.”

  Berry sat down in the grass and took off his hat.

  “Must be the weight,” he said. Here Fitch began to take out the tools. “Oh, there’s the pump. How nice to see it again. I’d almost forgotten what it looked like. It must be nearly ten minutes since we put it away.”

  “We’ll ring the changes,” said I. “This time you shall jack her up.”

  “I will – next time,” said Berry. “I’d like to. But I think if I watched you once more—”

  “Take your choice,” said I. “It’s the pump or the jack.’

  In a pregnant silence, Berry began to disrobe…

  I showed him where the jack must be placed.

  After a long look—

  “Of course,” he said, “if I was eight inches high and my arms were six feet long, it would be quite easy, wouldn’t it?”

  “It would simplify matters,” said I.

  “Quite so. I do hope I shan’t hurt the nether parts of the car.”

  “I hope not,” said I. “Go on.”

  The next three minutes were crowded.

  In that short space of time, Berry thrice placed and thrice overturned the jack, split his shirt, hit his head upon a joint which was discharging heavy oil, screamed, called “St Scum and all slow-bellies” to witness that he was “without spot or blemish in a naughty world”, protruded his tongue farther than I would have believed possible and was with difficulty prevented from hurling the jack-lever into the middle distance.

  Needless to say, Daphne, Jonah and I could hardly stand up, and tears of mirth were running on Fitch’s cheeks.

  Gravely Berry regarded us.

  Then—

  “In the last few moments,” he said, “the shortest era on record has come to a violent end. Never again will I defile my body or prostitute my brain by subscribing to the maintenance of any self-propelled vehicle. I won’t seek to raise it from the ground, I won’t introduce God’s air into its filthy wheels, I won’t add petrol to its maw or oil to its intestines. I’ll bruise its seat, but I’m damned if it shall bruise my soul.”

  With that, he smoothed his hair, inspected his palm, laughed like a maniac, threw himself down on the bank and tore the grass with his teeth.

  It was Daphne who cleaned his head with petrol, while Jonah and Fitch and I made good the damage which a two-inch nail had caused.

  We had no further trouble, the roads were not too bad, and the way was a handsome way. Sacradown was won at a quarter to two. By the time we had sighted its chimneys, old rose against powder blue, we remembered no more our misfortunes for our joy in the fifty-eight miles which we had covered at twenty-three to the hour.

  “Splendid,” cried the old squire, from the head of the steps. “If it means we shall see our friends, I accept the automobile. It’ll be a mixed blessing, of course. But omelets or eggs, you know. You can’t have them both. And to think that you’ll dine at White Ladies this very night!”

  “That’s right,” said Berry. “We may be a few hours late, but dinner will eventually be served.”

  “Rot,” said Daphne. “And I think we came awfully well.”

  “We didn’t fare badly,” said Jonah: “and that’s the truth, If we do as well going back…”

  We did not do as well going back.

  We had one burst and three punctures: and then, ten miles from White Ladies, the petrol-pipe became choked. Still, we sat down at half-past nine – after a memorable day. Breakdowns or no, the car was a great success. Not even Berry denied it.The exhilaration of speed, the swoop at a sudden valley and the lift at the hill to come, above all, the reduction of distance and the breaking of ground that was new – these things had taken us by storm. When I say ‘new ground’, I mean it. Twice we had passed through Poke Abbas that afternoon. Poke Abbas is a famous beauty, a washpot of History, over which Tradition has cast out her shoe. But, because it lay sixty
miles off and was served by another line, till that day we had never seen it, except from the train.

  To say that the proceedings against Joe Chinnock and Mr Slober assumed the proportions of a cause célèbre would be to understate the case.

  There was a full Bench and the police-court at Brooch was crammed, while a crowd, quite a hundred strong, was gathered without the doors.

  Geoffrey Mason, Solicitor, appeared on behalf of the smith. Mr Slober had engaged Counsel – an unattractive man, rude and overbearing, contemptuous of the Court. How fine was his practice in London, I do not know; but he made it clear at once that, while, as a matter of form, the Justices sat upon the Bench, their function was that of a jury, but his was that of a Judge.

  The summonses were taken together – this, by consent.

  The first witness was Constable Rowe: and, as might have been expected, Counsel ‘knocked him about’. But this the Bench did not like, for Rowe was an honest man.

  The chauffeur followed Rowe, and was carefully led by Mason to put his case too high.

  “You say you did not understand the groom’s request?

  “That’s right.”

  “You recognized him as a groom?”

  “Yes.”

  “As the groom belonging to the phaeton?”

  “I –might ’ave.”

  “What request did you think he was making?”

  “I’d no idea.”

  “You knew he was making a request?”

  “I can’t say I did.”

  “Why did you think he was addressing you?”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “Did you care?”

  “I ’ad to get on.”

  “You saw the greys were frightened?”

  “I saw there was somethin’ goin’ on.”

  “You didn’t associate their fright with the presence of your car?”

  “Never entered my head.”

  “Not even when their groom addressed you?”

  “No.”

  “You know that horses are frightened by cars?”

  “I’ve heard so.”

  Amid an indignant murmur, Mason sat down.

  William followed and really did very well. Counsel attacked him fiercely, but William hit back. He described how the greys had bolted.

  “But that was due to the driver’s thrashing them?”

  “If he hadn’t o’ done it, the mistress would ’ave been killed.”

  “How d’you make that out?”

  William leaned forward.

  “The car was movin’. Another six feet, an’ the greys would of swung round an’ bolted…on to the pavement…tryin’ to scrape their way by. An’ the phaeton crushed to matchwood against the wall. An’ the mistress was on the near side.”

  “That’s so much fancy. In this Court we deal with facts – at least, I hope we do.”

  “More like a nightmare,” said William.

  “Wasn’t the bolting a nightmare? The bolting your master caused?”

  “It was – but not ’alf such a bad one. You see, he’s a lovely whip, an’ it give him a chance.”

  “A lovely whip, is he? Wouldn’t a lovely whip have turned his horses round?”

  “What, across the bows o’ the car? Oh, good night, Nurse.”

  There was a roar of laughter, and Counsel sat angrily down.

  William was followed by the hawker, who was not particularly helpful, but made us all laugh very much.

  It was natural that Berry, who followed, should give his evidence well. What is more to the point, he was the only witness who had observed what was happening, but taken no part. Such testimony is of value. Counsel saw this as clearly as did the Court. And something else he saw. That was that, unless he could ‘crack’ Berry, his cake was dough.

  He rose to cross-examine, with a menacing air.

  “I believe you’re a Magistrate?”

  Your belief,” said Berry, “is correct.”

  Counsel’s head, which had been turned away, came round with a jerk.

  After a long look at Berry—

  “What Petty Sessional Court do you adorn?”

  “I attend that of Riding Hood.”

  “And there you dispense justice?”

  “I subscribe to its administration.”

  “You’re sure it is justice?”

  “We do our best.”

  “I see. Now with regard to this disgraceful business on the twenty-fourth of June… As being present, as being a Justice of the Peace, why didn’t you take some action?”

  “Because it is not my practice to interfere with police-officers in the execution of their duty.”

  Counsel leaned forward.

  “Wasn’t it because it was your wife’s horses that had taken fright at the car?”

  “That fact,” said Berry, “did not affect my outlook.”

  “D’you expect the Court to believe that?”

  “I do.”

  “Don’t you value your wife’s well-being?”

  “To be irrelevant,” said Berry, “it is not necessary to be offensive.”

  There was more than a murmur of applause, and Counsel grew slowly red.

  “This isn’t Riding Hood, Mr Pleydell.”

  “Yes, I’d realized that,” said Berry. “The dock’s much bigger for one thing, and the court-room’s a different shape.”

  There was a roar of laughter.

  Counsel’s eyes narrowed, and a hand went up to his mouth.

  When order had been restored—

  “Mrs Pleydell might have been injured?”

  “She might,” said Berry, “have been killed.”

  “Exactly. Yet you solemnly declare that that fact did not influence your conduct?”

  “I do,” said Berry. “You see, I didn’t know it.”

  “What d’you mean – ‘didn’t know it’?”

  Berry shrugged his shoulders.

  “It was not,” he said, “within my knowledge. That being so, for it to affect my outlook was quite impossible.”

  “You didn’t know that Mrs Pleydell had been involved?”

  “That is the impression,” said Berry, “which I am endeavouring to convey.”

  “Don’t you know your own carriage, when you see it?”

  “When I see it – yes. But not when it’s round two corners and a quarter of a mile away.”

  Everyone was waiting for this, and the burst of laughter which followed shook the room. Counsel turned and rent his solicitor. Though no one could hear his voice, his manner was eloquent. Then he straightened his back and faced his prey.

  “Let me get this clear. When did you appear upon the scene?’

  “About fifteen seconds before the constable.”

  “Did you see the chauffeur dragged from the car?”

  “No. The one had been taken, and the other left.”

  “I suppose you realize that no accident would have happened, if he had remained at the wheel?”

  “I realize nothing of the kind.”

  “What d’you mean, sir?”

  “This. When he was at the wheel, the chauffeur put in peril four valuable lives. Left to itself, the car was less exacting.”

  “Are you seriously suggesting that, if the chauffeur had not been removed, the barrow would have been upset and the lamp-post destroyed?”

  “No. But I am suggesting that, had he not been removed he might well be standing here or elsewhere on a charge of manslaughter.”

  “A curious point of view – for a Magistrate. Because a chauffeur misunderstands a request, he is to be branded as a potential murderer.”

  “I do not believe that he misunderstood the request.”

  “He has sworn so.”

  “I know. I don’t believe him.”

  “Pray, why not?”

  Berry leaned forward.

  “Because he has not misunderstood one single one of the questions asked him today.”

  That was a kidney punch, and the rustle that ran
round the Court showed that everyone present was well aware of its worth.

  Counsel’s face was working.

  “Try to remember,” he rasped, “that you are not on the Bench.”

  “May I respectfully offer the same advice?”

  In a pregnant silence, the two men regarded each other. Then Counsel returned to his brief.

  “When you arrived upon the scene, where was the chauffeur?”

  “In the trough,” said Berry.

  “And Mr Slober?”

  “Standing beside the car.”

  “And the hawker?”

  “Was importuning Mr Slober, who seemed preoccupied.”

  “Preoccupied?”

  “Yes. He was, er, soliloquizing upon what had occurred.”

  “Soliloquizing?”

  “Yes, in blank prose.”

  When the gust of laughter had passed—

  “And the hawker had hold of his arm?”

  “No. The hawker never touched him from first to last.”

  Counsel wagged a menacing finger.

  “I put it to you that he did.”

  “You can put it,” said Berry, “where you like, but—”

  In the roar of delight at this answer, the rest of the sentence was lost.

  But Counsel stuck to his guns.

  “The defendant will swear, Mr Pleydell, that the hawker took hold of his arm.”

  “That will confirm the opinion I formed at the time.”

  “What opinion was that?”

  “That the defendant was beside himself. Didn’t know what he was doing or what was being done. If he didn’t know then, he can’t remember now.”

  “His evidence should be ruled out?”

  “That is a matter for the Court.”

  “Of course. But you would advise them to disregard it?”

  “I should not presume to advise them on any point.”

  “But you’re a Justice of the Peace.”

  “Yes,” said Berry, “I am. I’m also a member of the MCC and the Army and Navy Stores. But at the present moment I’m a witness.”

  As the laughter died down—

  “When you are, er, enthroned at Riding Hood, do you frequently reject evidence on the ground that the witness was temporarily insane?”

  “No.”

  “Yet you’re asking this Court to do so.”

  “I am doing no such thing.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “I was under the impression that I was giving evidence.”