by John Fowles
A. Yes, but found him changed. As if he had reflected in my absence, and found he had said too much in our first conversation. I will not say he was discourteous. Yet he was more impatient with my doubts. He had papers from his box spread on a table before him when I returned. I saw they were mostly figures and with what I took to be geometrick or astronomick, I know not what, other signs. He handed me one to look at, and asked if I did not think they might not be seditious writings in cipher to James Stuart.
Q. By way of sarcasm, you would say?
A. Yes. Likewise that he had perhaps come to practise the black arts with some local witch. By which he meant also to mock my fears. Thereafter he grew more serious, and spoke again of this person he would meet; that before him he stood, in respect of powers of understanding and wisdom, as the poor mute Dick before himself. Then that what he was about might be a foolish dream, yet it did not put his soul in danger. You take his drift, Mr Ayscough. He confounded all in riddles, I assure you. He might seem to inform me, yet told me nothing.
Q. Some scholar, some learned recluse?
A. I must presume. By chance I had asked Mr Beckford if such there were, at least persons of taste and learning, in the neighbourhood, and he replied, there are none, that he dwelt in a desert. His very words.
Q. Mr B. gave no indication of how close this person lay or lived?
A. No, sir. Though one must suppose, within that next day's ride, and towards Bideford, where I left him on the morrow.
Q. It is implied, is it not, that this person now lives there or near there; that he knows Mr B. seeks this meeting, which he eschews, or is indifferent to; nay, that he will flee if he has fore-knowledge of his coming in his own person and has his agents, spies, I know not what, posted to prevent him ... whence all the elaborate subterfuge of which you were part? Is that not the case? I do not believe it, Lacy. I can sooner swallow the heiress. Did you not think, why does he mar a plausible tale, albeit a false one, with a far less credible account?
A. I did, sir. I saw no reason why I should be so newly misled, at this very last stage of our adventure. If I give you a reason for it, that came to me later, I fear you will call me a fool.
Q. Never mind, sir. I'll take you now for an honest fool, at least. A. Then I flatter myself Mr B. had gained some respect for me, even were it no more than you have just suggested. When I look back, I apprehend he wished to suggest a greater and more serious purpose than he had led me to believe. He wished me to know he sought something beyond the seeming of our parts till then. As if to say, I have deceived you, but it is in a great and worthy cause, tho' beyond what I can reveal.
Q Can you not be more exact as to what was written on the papers?
A. I know little of the learned sciences, sir. There were many numbers on the sheet he passed to me, in columns. With some two or three parts scratched loosely out, as if they had been found in error. And another on the table showed a geometrick figure, a circle cut by many lines that passed the circle's centre, against which were writ, at the lines' ends, further words of Greek, tho' abbreviate. If I do not mistake, rather as astrologers make their casts. I could not discern more closely.
Q. Did Mr B. never speak of such - of astrology, or belief or interest in it?
A. Unless at that observation at the temple, concerning his searching his life's meridian, no.
Q. In sum, he gave you to understand, though obscurely, that what had brought him there was not what he had hitherto given you to believe?
A. Yes, of that I am sure.
Q. And you presume, from this conversation, and those others that preceded it, that his true design was in some way pertinent to these his hints and allusions as to a piercing of the secrets of time to come?
A. Sir, to this day I know not what to presume. I sometimes think I must believe as he hinted; and at others, that all is riddle, that he would in all play the jack with me and never discoursed of these matters but to deceive; yet again, as I say, that though he must perforce deceive me, he did regret it sincerely.
Q. You had no more converse that night?
A. Upon one matter only, Mr Ayscough. For his admitting that he was here upon other business than had been pretended did raise a further enigma: why we had brought the maid: I confess I was piqued, sir, that I had been hitherto trusted so little; and so I did tell him of what Jones had believed her to be.
Q. What said he to that?
A. Whether I did believe it so; and I replied, easily I could not, yet that we suspected his man was privy to her bed. At which he did put a last confusion upon me, for he said, May a man not sleep with his wife, Lacy?
Q. What was your answer?
A. None, sir. I was the too discomfited. Jones and I had aired much in our speculations, but never that.
Q. Why should they have hidden that they were married?
A. It is beyond my conceiving. Nor why a comely, well-spoken young woman such as she should join her fate to such a deficient creature as Dick, without hope or prospect.
Q. This concluded your dealing on that evening?
A. Beyond that he did assure me of his esteem for me.
Q. Your agreed reward, how was that settled?
A. I forget, he said it should be done the next morning. As it was indeed. When he gave me the bill in settlement, and also begged me to keep or sell the horse, as I wished. Which I thought handsome of him.
Q. And it is sold?
A. Yes, when I came to Exeter.
Q. Now let us come to Jones, and his going off.
A. I was not a party to it, Mr Ayscough. He gave me no warning, not the least.
Q. Spake you to him, after you came to the Black Hart?
A. Unless some few words upon trivial matters.
Q. You had told him your task was near ended?
A. Yes, to be sure. As I said, we had divined it should be so before we came to the Black Hart; and when I retired, after being informed by Mr B. of our instructions, as to proceed
ing forthwith to Exeter, I did call Jones up from the kitchen and told him what had befallen.
Q. Seemed he set aback?
A. Not in the least, sir. He said he would be glad to be done with it.
Q. You did not discuss further?
A. Why, he might have done so, sir, for he was a little in his cups. But I sought my bed, and forbade it. I believe I said we should have time enough after to think upon all that had happened.
Q. When did you discover he had gone?
A. Not till I woke, that next morning, when as I dressed I remarked a note lying inside the door, as if pushed there. I have brought it, I fear it is poorly written.
Q. Read it, if you please.
A. Worthy Mr Lacy, I hope you shall not take it too ill thanks for your past kindness that I will be gone when you read this, I would not have it so, but as you well know I have an aged parent at my place of birth in Wales, as well a brother and sister I have not seen these seven years past. Sir, it has been much on my mind in this coming west that I have sore neglected my duty as a son and being here so close, I asked our landlord of passage across the channel to Wales, and he said there was weekly ships in culm and coals to Bideford and Barnstaple and I found on asking there was one such sails by chance on the flood this coming day as I write, I mean from Barnstaple, which I must take, tho' rest assured I will tell any who ask I ride ahead for you to Bideford to warn of your coming, and for the horse I will leave it at the Crown Inn, which is on Barnstaple Quay, for you or Mr B. to take up when and where you please, the blunderbush I leave beneath the bed, I would steal nothing. Pray believe it is my mother, sir, who I know is ailing, it is respect of her and if I should not take this chance when that I am come so close, but forty miles' sail, and our own journey done. Please assure Mr B. I shall keep my mouth closed tight as a - I can't read it, sir - and I beg with all my heart nor he nor you will think me failing on my side of the bargain other than by this one small day and if he is so kind as to forgive your humble servant and fr
iend I beg you hold safe my part owed unto my return to London, which shall not be long hence, I trust, and now begging once more your sincere pardon, I must end, for time presses. That is all, Mr Ayscough.
Q. He put his name to it?
A. His initials.
Q. You had no suspicion or forewarning of this whatsoever?
A. Not a particle, sir. It may be if I had had my wits more about me - I confess there was a circumstance at Taunton. Jones came to me there, and told some tale of having used most of his earnest money to settle a debt in London, so that he now found himself too little provided, and asked me to advance a sum upon the rest of his wages for the journey. Which I did, and noted in a pocket-book I keep for such purposes.
Q. How much?
A. A guinea.
Q. You were not surprised he should need such a sum?
A. I know him too well, sir. Where he can't impose by his braggarting, he will impose by treating.
Q. Now, Mr Lacy, what credence do you put upon this letter?
A. I was angry, most angry that he should betray me so. Yet I thought it true, sir, at that time. I knew he came from Swansea or thereabout, and had heard him speak of a mother
still living there.
Q. Who kept an alehouse?
A. Yes, so I believe he once told me.
Q. You say at that time - why not now?
A. Because he has not come for the rest of his money.
Q. Might he not have found work at Swansea?
A. Then he would have written. I know the man.
Q. Enquired you at the inn as to this - that there was truly a ship for Swansea that day? That Jones had asked after such?
A. I did not, sir, upon Mr Bartholomew's instructions. For I had hardly read it when the man Dick came to bring me to Mr B., who knew Jones had gone, Dick having told him. And thought it might be by my instruction. To which I was obliged to tell him not, and the truth of the matter.
Q. You showed him the note?
A. At once.
Q. It alarmed him?
A Less than I feared. He was kind to my embarrassment, though he had hired Jones upon my recommendations.. He questioned me a little, as to what belief we might give the letter. I replied as to you and that I was sure he need have no alarm for his own purposes, since Jones knew even less of them than I. That if he had had some evil intent, he would not have written his note, nor left it so late to act upon it.
Q. Jones knew you were commanded to return by Exeter, you say?
A. Yes. I had told him that.
Q. What instructions did Mr Bartholomew give as to this new turn of events?
A. That we must show no sign that what Jones had done was without our knowledge, but pretend it was at our instruction. That is, leave together, then go our separate ways and proceed as before. I confess I did not relish the prospect of riding alone in such a wild and sparse-peopled country, but I held my tongue. I felt myself most to blame for the loss of my intended companion, such as he was.
Q. Have you thought on what might prevent the fellow from claiming his due of you?
A. I have, and have no answer. It is most unlike.
Q. It would not be his guilt at leaving you in the lurch?
A. No. He's too poor to be tender on that point; or not to try.
Q. He was not married?
A. He never spoke of a wife. I did not know him as I might a friend, Mr Ayscough. I have seen him put on a pretence of fine manners, but not such as would pass him for a gentleman, however humble, or that I should impose upon Mrs Lacy. He came once or twice to my house, but never past the door. There were a dozen others such as he that I truly know no worse or better, and might have recommended to Mr Bartholomew. It so fell I had met Jones a day or two previous in the street and spoken with him, and knew he had no work.
Q. Very well. We come to your parting with Mr Bartholomew.
A. I could not tell you the name of the place. In two miles or a little more we came to a fork, where there stood a gallows, Mr Bartholomew stopped and said it was the place, that in some few miles my road should come to the highway from Barnstaple to Exeter and I had but to follow that, and should with any luck find other travellers to journey with. That I might sleep at Crediton or straight to Exeter, as I chose.
Q. Said he no more?
A. Yes, we must wait a minute or two while the fellow Dick took my baggage from the pack-horse and tied it to the beast I rode. And I forget, Mr Bartholomew had insisted most solicitously that I take Jones's blunderbuss with me, though 1 doubt I should have brought myself to discharge it, except under most desperate need; but fortune was with me, none arose. As to our parting, Mr B. and I dismounted and walked a few steps away. Once again he thanked me and begged my excuses for the doubts he had occasioned in me, and prayed I would ride on with no shadow in my soul, as he assured me I should, or would, had he been able to divulge the entire truth.
Q. Still he gave no more precise indication of where he went, or whom he hoped to meet?
A. No, sir.
Q. Seemed he more confident in his demeanour?
A. I would rather say resigned, as if the die were cast. I remarked that the sun at least smiled on his enterprise, since the day was a true old May Day, not a cloud to be seen. And he said, Yes, I try to find that good augury, Lacy. When I then hoped he
would encompass this interview he so desired, he merely bowed and said, I shall soon know. He added nothing else.
Q. The maid and the man - they seemed not surprised that you left their company?
A. No doubt they had been told that here my part ended, as indeed it did. I shook hands with Mr Bartholomew, we mounted, they went their way and I went mine. Sir, I have told you all that I know. I am sorry to disappoint where you would most have me say more. I think I did warn you it must come to this.
Q. Now I would put a case to you. Supposing Jones had known himself right in his first suspicion, that the maid was no maid, but a whore; that he had more forcefully charged her with it than he led you to believe, and demanded money for his silence, and received it, either from her or Mr B. himself. That is, say he was suborned from your interest, and well paid to remove himself for fear that he might tell you what he knew, once you had parted as planned from Mr B. Is this not more likely, and why he hath foregone his agreed wages? May he not already have received them there in Devon, and no doubt more than was bargained in the beginning?
A. I cannot credit he would trick me so.
Q. I may tell you his suspicion was right, Lacy. Your modest maid was neither modest nor maid, but hired fresh out of Claiborne's stews.
A. I am dumbfounded, sir.
Q. You were too fond, my friend. I know Jones's kind. Their honesty is ever where their interest lies. A lifetime's trust is nothing to a few guineas' profit.
A. But why was such a creature as she brought with us?
Q. There, I have still to determine. One would presume, for Mr B.'s pleasure. You assure me there was no sign of that?
A. None that I saw.
Q. And for the fellow Dick being taken to her bed, you have none but Jones's word?
A. And their manner together, Mr Ayscough. In him it was naked he lusted after her. She was more discreet, yet I smelt a closeness there.
Q. Let us return to your parting. You rode thence as directed, to Exeter?
A. I soon fell in upon the high-road with a pack-horse train, and two stout fellows to guard it, and did not bid them farewell until we were inside the city gate at Exeter; where I stayed two days to repose myself, and sold my horse; then took
coach to London, on the third.
Q. And to the enquiries of your fellow travellers?
A. I dare say the most disagreeable old crab they have ever coached with. They gained nothing.
Q. You have told Mrs Lacy of your adventures?
A. I have, sir. She is discretion itself, I assure you. Not all ladies in my profession are as that shameless hoyden, Mrs Charke, that has brought such distres
s through her malicious conduct and ill-repute upon her worthy father, Mr Cibber; far from it, sir. She is the exception, not the rule. No one who knew Mrs Lacy could impute to her loose morals or the least indiscretion in private matters.
Q. Then you have a rare pearl in her sex. None the less, Lacy, I trust you will, having presented my compliments, request her to continue in that most estimable quality.
A. You may be confident, Mr Ayscough. Now we are done, I feel my conscience much relieved. Would that my apprehensions were in the same case. May I venture now to ask, what you informed me of Mr B's servant - I cannot forget that?
Q. He was found hanged, Lacy, not three miles from where you saw him last. Whether by his own hand, as it seemed, or by some other evil person, and made to appear as self-murder, is as undetermined as so much else.
A. And of his master there is no news?
Q. Not one whit, nor of the whore. You may think yourself lucky that you took the Exeter road.
A. I now know it, sir. I would I had taken no part.
Q. No doubt he would have found another to aid him. Your part was small matter. He was set upon something such as this, long before he sent his servant to your door.
A. Upon disobedience?
Q. What would you say of a young man in your own calling, who having shown talents and powers far beyond the ordinary, having in addition as rich expectations in his private life as upon the public stage, sets his face, upon principles he does not deign to declare, against all that Providence most plainly designs for him? To say nothing of spurning all the reasonable hopes and counsels of his family and friends? That is not disobedience alone, Lacy. The common people of the county of my birth have a proverb of a child grown to a troublesome man. They say the Devil rocked his cradle. By which they would say, he is not so much to blame for his perversity as some malign accident of nature. Mr B. was given all, except contentment with his seeming most fortunate lot. He you knew was no hobbledehoy son of a gentleman nobody, that much you will have divined, I doubt not. But enough, I begin to say too much, Lacy, I thank you for your evidence, and hope we part on better terms than we began. You will allow we must both be actors on occasion, though it is for different ends.