Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER LXII

  THE KING MUST NOT BE PRAYED FOR

  All our neighbourhood was surprised that the Doones had not ere nowattacked, and probably made an end of us. For we lay almost at theirmercy now, having only Sergeant Bloxham, and three men, to protect us,Captain Stickles having been ordered southwards with all his force;except such as might be needful for collecting toll, and watching theimports at Lynmouth, and thence to Porlock. The Sergeant, having nowimbibed a taste for writing reports (though his first great effort haddone him no good, and only offended Stickles), reported weekly fromPlover's Barrows, whenever he could find a messenger. And though we fednot Sergeant Bloxham at our own table, with the best we had (as in thecase of Stickles, who represented His Majesty), yet we treated him sowell, that he reported very highly of us, as loyal and true-heartedlieges, and most devoted to our lord the King. And indeed he couldscarcely have done less, when Lizzie wrote great part of his reports,and furbished up the rest to such a pitch of lustre, that Lord Clarendonhimself need scarce have been ashamed of them. And though this cost agreat deal of ale, and even of strong waters (for Lizzie would have itthe duty of a critic to stand treat to the author), and though it wasotherwise a plague, as giving the maid such airs of patronage, and suchpretence to politics; yet there was no stopping it, without the riskof mortal offence to both writer and reviewer. Our mother also, whiledisapproving Lizzie's long stay in the saddle-room on a Friday night anda Saturday, and insisting that Betty should be there, was neverthelessas proud as need be, that the King should read our Eliza' s writings--atleast so the innocent soul believed--and we all looked forward tosomething great as the fruit of all this history. And something greatdid come of it, though not as we expected; for these reports, or as manyof them as were ever opened, stood us in good stead the next year, whenwe were accused of harbouring and comforting guilty rebels.

  Now the reason why the Doones did not attack us was that they werepreparing to meet another and more powerful assault upon their fortress;being assured that their repulse of King's troops could not be lookedover when brought before the authorities. And no doubt they were right;for although the conflicts in the Government during that summer andautumn had delayed the matter yet positive orders had been issued thatthese outlaws and malefactors should at any price be brought to justice;when the sudden death of King Charles the Second threw all things intoconfusion, and all minds into a panic.

  We heard of it first in church, on Sunday, the eighth day of February,1684-5, from a cousin of John Fry, who had ridden over on purpose fromPorlock. He came in just before the anthem, splashed and heated from hisride, so that every one turned and looked at him. He wanted to create astir (knowing how much would be made of him), and he took the best wayto do it. For he let the anthem go by very quietly--or rather I shouldsay very pleasingly, for our choir was exceeding proud of itself, andI sang bass twice as loud as a bull, to beat the clerk with theclarionet--and then just as Parson Bowden, with a look of pride at hisminstrels, was kneeling down to begin the prayer for the King's MostExcellent Majesty (for he never read the litany, except upon EasterSunday), up jumps young Sam Fry, and shouts,--

  'I forbid that there prai-er.'

  'What!' cried the parson, rising slowly, and looking for some one toshut the door: 'have we a rebel in the congregation?' For the parson wasgrowing short-sighted now, and knew not Sam Fry at that distance.

  'No,' replied Sam, not a whit abashed by the staring of all the parish;'no rebel, parson but a man who mislaiketh popery and murder. Thatthere prai-er be a prai-er for the dead.'

  'Nay,' cried the parson, now recognising and knowing him to be ourJohn's first cousin, 'you do not mean to say, Sam, that His GraciousMajesty is dead!'

  'Dead as a sto-un: poisoned by they Papishers.' And Sam rubbed his handswith enjoyment, at the effect he had produced.

  'Remember where you are, Sam,' said Parson Bowden solemnly; 'when didthis most sad thing happen? The King is the head of the Church, Sam Fry;when did he leave her?'

  'Day afore yesterday. Twelve o'clock. Warn't us quick to hear of 'un?'

  'Can't be,' said the minister: 'the tidings can never have come sosoon. Anyhow, he will want it all the more. Let us pray for His GraciousMajesty.'

  And with that he proceeded as usual; but nobody cried 'Amen,' for fearof being entangled with Popery. But after giving forth his text, ourparson said a few words out of book, about the many virtues of HisMajesty, and self-denial, and devotion, comparing his pious mirth to thedancing of the patriarch David before the ark of the covenant; and headded, with some severity, that if his flock would not join their pastor(who was much more likely to judge aright) in praying for the King, theleast they could do on returning home was to pray that the King mightnot be dead, as his enemies had asserted.

  Now when the service was over, we killed the King, and we brought him tolife, at least fifty times in the churchyard: and Sam Fry was mounted ona high gravestone, to tell every one all he knew of it. But he knew nomore than he had told us in the church, as before repeated: upon whichwe were much disappointed with him, and inclined to disbelieve him;until he happily remembered that His Majesty had died in great pain,with blue spots on his breast and black spots all across his back, andthese in the form of a cross, by reason of Papists having poisoned him.When Sam called this to his remembrance (or to his imagination) he wasoverwhelmed, at once, with so many invitations to dinner, that he scarceknew which of them to accept; but decided in our favour.

  Grieving much for the loss of the King, however greatly it might be (asthe parson had declared it was, while telling us to pray against it) forthe royal benefit, I resolved to ride to Porlock myself, directly afterdinner, and make sure whether he were dead, or not. For it was not byany means hard to suppose that Sam Fry, being John's first cousin, mighthave inherited either from grandfather or grandmother some of thosegifts which had made our John so famous for mendacity. At Porlock Ifound that it was too true; and the women of the town were in greatdistress, for the King had always been popular with them: the men, onthe other hand, were forecasting what would be likely to ensue.

  And I myself was of this number, riding sadly home again; although boundto the King as churchwarden now; which dignity, next to the parson's inrank, is with us (as it ought to be in every good parish) hereditary.For who can stick to the church like the man whose father stuck to itbefore him; and who knows all the little ins, and great outs, which mustin these troublous times come across?

  But though appointed at last, by virtue of being best farmer in theparish (as well as by vice of mismanagement on the part of my mother,and Nicholas Snowe, who had thoroughly muxed up everything, being tooquick-headed); yet, while I dwelled with pride upon the fact that Istood in the King's shoes, as the manager and promoter of the Church ofEngland, and I knew that we must miss His Majesty (whose arms were abovethe Commandments), as the leader of our thoughts in church, and handsomeupon a guinea; nevertheless I kept on thinking how his death would acton me.

  And here I saw it, many ways. In the first place, troubles must breakout; and we had eight-and-twenty ricks; counting grain, and straw, andhay. Moreover, mother was growing weak about riots, and shooting, andburning; and she gathered the bed-clothes around her ears every night,when her feet were tucked up; and prayed not to awake until morning. Inthe next place, much rebellion (though we would not own it; in eithersense of the verb, to 'own') was whispering, and plucking skirts, andmaking signs, among us. And the terror of the Doones helped greatly;as a fruitful tree of lawlessness, and a good excuse for everybody.And after this--or rather before it, and first of all indeed (if I muststate the true order)--arose upon me the thought of Lorna, and how thesethings would affect her fate.

  And indeed I must admit that it had occurred to me sometimes, or beensuggested by others, that the Lady Lorna had not behaved altogetherkindly, since her departure from among us. For although in those daysthe post (as we call the service of letter-carrying, which now comeswithin twenty miles of us) did no
t extend to our part of the world, yetit might have been possible to procure for hire a man who would ridepost, if Lorna feared to trust the pack-horses, or the troopers, whowent to and fro. Yet no message whatever had reached us; neither anytoken even of her safety in London. As to this last, however, we had nomisgivings, having learned from the orderlies, more than once, thatthe wealth, and beauty, and adventures of young Lady Lorna Dugal weregreatly talked of, both at court and among the common people.

  Now riding sadly homewards, in the sunset of the early spring, I wasmore than ever touched with sorrow, and a sense of being, as it were,abandoned. And the weather growing quite beautiful, and so mild that thetrees were budding, and the cattle full of happiness, I could not butthink of the difference between the world of to-day and the world ofthis day twelvemonth. Then all was howling desolation, all the earthblocked up with snow, and all the air with barbs of ice as smallas splintered needles, yet glittering, in and out, like stars, andgathering so upon a man (if long he stayed among them) that they beganto weigh him down to sleepiness and frozen death. Not a sign of lifewas moving, nor was any change of view; unless the wild wind struck thecrest of some cold drift, and bowed it.

  Now, on the other hand, all was good. The open palm of spring was laidupon the yielding of the hills; and each particular valley seemed to bethe glove for a finger. And although the sun was low, and dipping in thewestern clouds, the gray light of the sea came up, and took, and taking,told the special tone of everything. All this lay upon my heart, withouta word of thinking, spreading light and shadow there, and the softdelight of sadness. Nevertheless, I would it were the savage snow aroundme, and the piping of the restless winds, and the death of everything.For in those days I had Lorna.

  Then I thought of promise fair; such as glowed around me, where thered rocks held the sun, when he was departed; and the distant cragsendeavoured to retain his memory. But as evening spread across them,shading with a silent fold, all the colour stole away; all remembrancewaned and died.

  'So it has been with love,' I thought, 'and with simple truth andwarmth. The maid has chosen the glittering stars, instead of the plaindaylight.'

  Nevertheless I would not give in, although in deep despondency(especially when I passed the place where my dear father had fought invain), and I tried to see things right and then judge aright about them.This, however, was more easy to attempt than to achieve; and by the timeI came down the hill, I was none the wiser. Only I could tell my motherthat the King was dead for sure; and she would have tried to cry, butfor thought of her mourning.

  There was not a moment for lamenting. All the mourning must be ready (ifwe cared to beat the Snowes) in eight-and-forty hours: and, althoughit was Sunday night, mother now feeling sure of the thing, sat up withLizzie, cutting patterns, and stitching things on brown paper, andsnipping, and laying the fashions down, and requesting all opinions, yetwhen given, scorning them; insomuch that I grew weary even of tobacco(which had comforted me since Lorna), and prayed her to go on until theKing should be alive again.

  The thought of that so flurried her--for she never yet could see ajoke--that she laid her scissors on the table and said, 'The Lordforbid, John! after what I have cut up!'

  'It would be just like him,' I answered, with a knowing smile: 'Mother,you had better stop. Patterns may do very well; but don't cut up anymore good stuff.'

  'Well, good lack, I am a fool! Three tables pegged with needles! TheLord in His mercy keep His Majesty, if ever He hath gotten him!'

  By this device we went to bed; and not another stitch was struck untilthe troopers had office-tidings that the King was truly dead. Hence theSnowes beat us by a day; and both old Betty and Lizzie laid the blameupon me, as usual.

  Almost before we had put off the mourning, which as loyal subjects wekept for the King three months and a week; rumours of disturbances, ofplottings, and of outbreak began to stir among us. We heard of fightingin Scotland, and buying of ships on the continent, and of arms in Dorsetand Somerset; and we kept our beacon in readiness to give signals of alanding; or rather the soldiers did. For we, having trustworthy reportsthat the King had been to high mass himself in the Abbey of Westminster,making all the bishops go with him, and all the guards in London, andthen tortured all the Protestants who dared to wait outside, moreoverhad received from the Pope a flower grown in the Virgin Mary's garden,and warranted to last for ever, we of the moderate party, hearing allthis and ten times as much, and having no love for this sour James,such as we had for the lively Charles, were ready to wait for what mighthappen, rather than care about stopping it. Therefore we listened torumours gladly, and shook our heads with gravity, and predicted, everyman something, but scarce any two the same. Nevertheless, in our part,things went on as usual, until the middle of June was nigh. We ploughedthe ground, and sowed the corn, and tended the cattle, and heeded everyone his neighbour's business, as carefully as heretofore; and the onlything that moved us much was that Annie had a baby. This being a veryfine child with blue eyes, and christened 'John' in compliment to me,and with me for his godfather, it is natural to suppose that I thoughta good deal about him; and when mother or Lizzie would ask me, all of asudden, and treacherously, when the fire flared up at supper-time (forwe always kept a little wood just alight in summer-time, and enough tomake the pot boil), then when they would say to me, 'John, what areyou thinking of? At a word, speak!' I would always answer, 'Little JohnFaggus'; and so they made no more of me.

  But when I was down, on Saturday the thirteenth of June, at theblacksmith's forge by Brendon town, where the Lynn-stream runs so closethat he dips his horseshoes in it, and where the news is apt to comefirst of all to our neighbourhood (except upon a Sunday), while we weretalking of the hay-crop, and of a great sheep-stealer, round the cornercame a man upon a piebald horse looking flagged and weary. But seeinghalf a dozen of us, young, and brisk, and hearty, he made a flourishwith his horse, and waved a blue flag vehemently, shouting with greatglory,--

  'Monmouth and the Protestant faith! Monmouth and no Popery! Monmouth,the good King's eldest son! Down with the poisoning murderer! Down withthe black usurper, and to the devil with all papists!'

  'Why so, thou little varlet?' I asked very quietly; for the man was toosmall to quarrel with: yet knowing Lorna to be a 'papist,' as we chooseto call them--though they might as well call us 'kingists,' after thehead of our Church--I thought that this scurvy scampish knave might showthem the way to the place he mentioned, unless his courage failed him.

  'Papist yourself, be you?' said the fellow, not daring to answer much:'then take this, and read it.'

  And he handed me a long rigmarole, which he called a 'Declaration': Isaw that it was but a heap of lies, and thrust it into the blacksmith'sfire, and blew the bellows thrice at it. No one dared attempt to stopme, for my mood had not been sweet of late; and of course they knew mystrength.

  The man rode on with a muttering noise, having won no recruits from us,by force of my example: and he stopped at the ale-house farther down,where the road goes away from the Lynn-stream. Some of us went thitherafter a time, when our horses were shodden and rasped, for although wemight not like the man, we might be glad of his tidings, which seemed tobe something wonderful. He had set up his blue flag in the tap-room, andwas teaching every one.

  'Here coom'th Maister Jan Ridd,' said the landlady, being well pleasedwith the call for beer and cider: 'her hath been to Lunnon-town, andlive within a maile of me. Arl the news coom from them nowadays, insteadof from here, as her ought to do. If Jan Ridd say it be true, I will tryalmost to belave it. Hath the good Duke landed, sir?' And she looked atme over a foaming cup, and blew the froth off, and put more in.

  'I have no doubt it is true enough,' I answered, before drinking; 'andtoo true, Mistress Pugsley. Many a poor man will die; but none shall diefrom our parish, nor from Brendon, if I can help it.'

  And I knew that I could help it; for every one in those little placeswould abide by my advice; not only from the fame of my schooling andlong sojo
urn in London, but also because I had earned repute for beingvery 'slow and sure': and with nine people out of ten this is the verybest recommendation. For they think themselves much before you in wit,and under no obligation, but rather conferring a favour, by doing thething that you do. Hence, if I cared for influence--which means, forthe most part, making people do one's will, without knowing it--my firststep toward it would be to be called, in common parlance, 'slow butsure.'

  For the next fortnight we were daily troubled with conflicting rumours,each man relating what he desired, rather than what he had right, tobelieve. We were told that the Duke had been proclaimed King of Englandin every town of Dorset and of Somerset; that he had won a great battleat Axminster, and another at Bridport, and another somewhere else;that all the western counties had risen as one man for him, and allthe militia had joined his ranks; that Taunton, and Bridgwater, andBristowe, were all mad with delight, the two former being in his hands,and the latter craving to be so. And then, on the other hand, we heardthat the Duke had been vanquished, and put to flight, and upon beingapprehended, had confessed himself an impostor and a papist as bad asthe King was.

  We longed for Colonel Stickles (as he always became in time of war,though he fell back to Captain, and even Lieutenant, directly the fightwas over), for then we should have won trusty news, as well as goodconsideration. But even Sergeant Bloxham, much against his will, wasgone, having left his heart with our Lizzie, and a collection of allhis writings. All the soldiers had been ordered away at full speed forExeter, to join the Duke of Albemarle, or if he were gone, to followhim. As for us, who had fed them so long (although not quite fornothing), we must take our chance of Doones, or any other enemies.

  Now all these tidings moved me a little; not enough to spoil appetite,but enough to make things lively, and to teach me that look of wisdomwhich is bred of practice only, and the hearing of many lies. ThereforeI withheld my judgment, fearing to be triumphed over, if it shouldhappen to miss the mark. But mother and Lizzie, ten times in a day,predicted all they could imagine; and their prophecies increased instrength according to contradiction. Yet this was not in the properstyle for a house like ours, which knew the news, or at least had knownit; and still was famous, all around, for the last advices. Even fromLynmouth, people sent up to Plover's Barrows to ask how things weregoing on: and it was very grievous to answer that in truth we knew not,neither had heard for days and days; and our reputation was so great,especially since the death of the King had gone abroad from Oare parish,that many inquirers would only wink, and lay a finger on the lip, as ifto say, 'you know well enough, but see not fit to tell me.' And beforethe end arrived, those people believed that they had been right allalong, and that we had concealed the truth from them.

  For I myself became involved (God knows how much against my will and myproper judgment) in the troubles, and the conflict, and the cruel workcoming afterwards. If ever I had made up my mind to anything in all mylife, it was at this particular time, and as stern and strong as couldbe. I had resolved to let things pass,--to hear about them gladly, toencourage all my friends to talk, and myself to express opinion uponeach particular point, when in the fullness of time no further doubtcould be. But all my policy went for nothing, through a few touches offeeling.

  One day at the beginning of July, I came home from mowing about noon, ora little later, to fetch some cider for all of us, and to eat a morselof bacon. For mowing was no joke that year, the summer being wonderfullywet (even for our wet country), and the swathe falling heavier over thescythe than ever I could remember it. We were drenched with rain almostevery day; but the mowing must be done somehow; and we must trust to Godfor the haymaking.

  In the courtyard I saw a little cart, with iron brakes underneath it,such as fastidious people use to deaden the jolting of the road; but fewmen under a lord or baronet would be so particular. Therefore I wonderedwho our noble visitor could be. But when I entered the kitchen-place,brushing up my hair for somebody, behold it was no one greater than ourAnnie, with my godson in her arms, and looking pale and tear-begone.And at first she could not speak to me. But presently having sat down alittle, and received much praise for her baby, she smiled and blushed,and found her tongue as if she had never gone from us.

  'How natural it all looks again! Oh, I love this old kitchen so! Babydear, only look at it wid him pitty, pitty eyes, and him tongue out ofhis mousy! But who put the flour-riddle up there. And look at the pestleand mortar, and rust I declare in the patty pans! And a book, positivelya dirty book, where the clean skewers ought to hang! Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie,Lizzie!'

  'You may just as well cease lamenting,' I said, 'for you can't alterLizzie's nature, and you will only make mother uncomfortable, andperhaps have a quarrel with Lizzie, who is proud as Punch of herhousekeeping.'

  'She,' cried Annie, with all the contempt that could be compressed in asyllable. 'Well, John, no doubt you are right about it. I will try notto notice things. But it is a hard thing, after all my care, to seeeverything going to ruin. But what can be expected of a girl who knowsall the kings of Carthage?'

  'There were no kings of Carthage, Annie. They were called, why let mesee--they were called--oh, something else.'

  'Never mind what they were called,' said Annie; 'will they cook ourdinner for us? But now, John, I am in such trouble. All this talk ismake-believe.'

  'Don't you cry, my dear: don't cry, my darling sister,' I answered,as she dropped into the worn place of the settle, and bent above herinfant, rocking as if both their hearts were one: 'don't you know,Annie, I cannot tell, but I know, or at least I mean, I have heard themen of experience say, it is so bad for the baby.'

  'Perhaps I know that as well as you do, John,' said Annie, looking up atme with a gleam of her old laughing: 'but how can I help crying; I am insuch trouble.'

  'Tell me what it is, my dear. Any grief of yours will vex me greatly;but I will try to bear it.'

  'Then, John, it is just this. Tom has gone off with the rebels; and youmust, oh, you must go after him.'