CHAPTER LXIX
NOT TO BE PUT UP WITH
The coat of arms, devised for me by the Royal heralds, was of greatsize, and rich colours, and full of bright imaginings. They did me thehonour to consult me first, and to take no notice of my advice. For Ibegged that there might be a good-sized cow on it, so as to stamp ourpats of butter before they went to market: also a horse on the otherside, and a flock snowed up at the bottom. But the gentlemen would nothear of this; and to find something more appropriate, they inquiredstrictly into the annals of our family. I told them, of course, allabout King Alfred; upon which they settled that one quarter should be,three cakes on a bar, with a lion regardant, done upon a field of gold.Also I told them that very likely there had been a Ridd in the battlefought, not very far from Plover's Barrows, by the Earl of Devon againstthe Danes, when Hubba their chief was killed, and the sacred standardtaken. As some of the Danes are said to be buried, even upon landof ours, and we call their graves (if such they be) even to this day'barrows,' the heralds quite agreed with me that a Ridd might have beenthere, or thereabouts; and if he was there, he was almost certain tohave done his best, being in sight of hearth and home; and it was plainthat he must have had good legs to be at the same time both there and inAthelney; and good legs are an argument for good arms; and supposinga man of this sort to have done his utmost (as the manner of the Riddsis), it was next to certain that he himself must have captured thestandard. Moreover, the name of our farm was pure proof; a plover beinga wild bird, just the same as a raven is. Upon this chain of reasoning,and without any weak misgivings, they charged my growing escutcheon witha black raven on a ground of red. And the next thing which I mentionedpossessing absolute certainty, to wit, that a pig with two heads hadbeen born upon our farm, not more than two hundred years agone (althoughhe died within a week), my third quarter was made at once, by atwo-headed boar with noble tusks, sable upon silver. All this was veryfierce and fine; and so I pressed for a peaceful corner in the lowerdexter, and obtained a wheat-sheaf set upright, gold upon a field ofgreen.
Here I was inclined to pause, and admire the effect; for even DeWhichehalse could not show a bearing so magnificent. But the heraldssaid that it looked a mere sign-board, without a good motto under it;and the motto must have my name in it. They offered me first, 'Riddnon ridendus'; but I said, 'for God's sake, gentlemen, let me forget myLatin.' Then they proposed, 'Ridd readeth riddles': but I begged themnot to set down such a lie; for no Ridd ever had made, or made out, sucha thing as a riddle, since Exmoor itself began. Thirdly, they gave me,'Ridd never be ridden,' and fearing to make any further objections, Ilet them inscribe it in bronze upon blue. The heralds thought that theKing would pay for this noble achievement; but His Majesty, althoughgraciously pleased with their ingenuity, declined in the most decidedmanner to pay a farthing towards it; and as I had now no money left, theheralds became as blue as azure, and as red as gules; until Her Majestythe Queen came forward very kindly, and said that if His Majesty gaveme a coat of arms, I was not to pay for it; therefore she herself did soquite handsomely, and felt goodwill towards me in consequence.
Now being in a hurry--so far at least as it is in my nature to hurry--toget to the end of this narrative, is it likely that I would have dwelledso long upon my coat of arms, but for some good reason? And this goodreason is that Lorna took the greatest pride in it, and thought (or atany rate said) that it quite threw into the shade, and eclipsed, all herown ancient glories. And half in fun, and half in earnest, she calledme 'Sir John' so continually, that at last I was almost angry withher; until her eyes were bedewed with tears; and then I was angry withmyself.
Beginning to be short of money, and growing anxious about the farm,longing also to show myself and my noble escutcheon to mother, Itook advantage of Lady Lorna's interest with the Queen, to obtain myacquittance and full discharge from even nominal custody. It had beenintended to keep me in waiting, until the return of Lord Jeffreys, fromthat awful circuit of shambles, through which his name is still used bymothers to frighten their children into bed. And right glad wasI--for even London shrank with horror at the news--to escape a manso bloodthirsty, savage, and even to his friends (among whom I wasreckoned) malignant.
Earl Brandir was greatly pleased with me, not only for having saved hislife, but for saving that which he valued more, the wealth laid by forLord Alan. And he introduced me to many great people, who quite kindlyencouraged me, and promised to help me in every way when they heard howthe King had spoken. As for the furrier, he could never have enough ofmy society; and this worthy man, praying my commendation, demanded of meone thing only--to speak of him as I found him. As I had found him manya Sunday, furbishing up old furs for new, with a glaze to conceal themoths' ravages, I begged him to reconsider the point, and not to demandsuch accuracy. He said, 'Well, well; all trades had tricks, especiallythe trick of business; and I must take him--if I were his truefriend--according to his own description.' This I was glad enough to do;because it saved so much trouble, and I had no money to spend with him.But still he requested the use of my name; and I begged him to do thebest with it, as I never had kept a banker. And the 'John Ridd cuffs,'and the 'Sir John mantles,' and the 'Holly-staff capes,' he put intohis window, as the winter was coming on, ay and sold (for everybody wasburning with gossip about me), must have made this good man's fortune;since the excess of price over value is the true test of success inlife.
To come away from all this stuff, which grieves a man in London--whenthe brisk air of the autumn cleared its way to Ludgate Hill, and clever'prentices ran out, and sniffed at it, and fed upon it (having littleelse to eat); and when the horses from the country were a goodly sightto see, with the rasp of winter bristles rising through and among thesoft summer-coat; and when the new straw began to come in, goldenwith the harvest gloss, and smelling most divinely at those strangelivery-stables, where the nags are put quite tail to tail; and whenall the London folk themselves are asking about white frost (fromrecollections of childhood); then, I say, such a yearning seized me formoory crag, and for dewy blade, and even the grunting of our sheep (whenthe sun goes down), that nothing but the new wisps of Samson could haveheld me in London town.
Lorna was moved with equal longing towards the country and country ways;and she spoke quite as much of the glistening dew as she did of thesmell of our oven. And here let me mention--although the two are quitedistinct and different--that both the dew and the bread of Exmoor maybe sought, whether high or low, but never found elsewhere. The dew is socrisp, and pure, and pearly, and in such abundance; and the bread is sosweet, so kind, and homely, you can eat a loaf, and then another.
Now while I was walking daily in and out great crowds of men (few ofwhom had any freedom from the cares of money, and many of whom wereeven morbid with a worse pest called 'politics'), I could not be quit ofthinking how we jostle one another. God has made the earth quite large,with a spread of land large enough for all to live on, without fighting.Also a mighty spread of water, laying hands on sand and cliff with asolemn voice in storm-time; and in the gentle weather moving men tothoughts of equity. This, as well, is full of food; being two-thirds ofthe world, and reserved for devouring knowledge; by the time the sonsof men have fed away the dry land. Yet before the land itself hasacknowledged touch of man, upon one in a hundred acres; and before onemile in ten thousand of the exhaustless ocean has ever felt the plungeof hook, or combing of the haul-nets; lo, we crawl, in flocks togetherupon the hot ground that stings us, even as the black grubs crowd uponthe harried nettle! Surely we are too much given to follow the tracks ofeach other.
However, for a moralist, I never set up, and never shall, while commonsense abides with me. Such a man must be very wretched in this puredearth of morality; like a fisherman where no fish be; and most of ushave enough to do to attend to our own morals. Enough that I resolvedto go; and as Lorna could not come with me, it was even worse thanstopping. Nearly everybody vowed that I was a great fool indeed, toneglect so rudely--which was the proper w
ord, they said--the pushingof my fortunes. But I answered that to push was rude, and I left it topeople who had no room; and thought that my fortune must be heavy, if itwould not move without pushing.
Lorna cried when I came away (which gave me great satisfaction), and shesent a whole trunkful of things for mother and Annie, and even Lizzie.And she seemed to think, though she said it not, that I made my ownoccasion for going, and might have stayed on till the winter. WhereasI knew well that my mother would think (and every one on the farm thesame) that here I had been in London, lagging, and taking my pleasure,and looking at shops, upon pretence of King's business, and leaving theharvest to reap itself, not to mention the spending of money; while allthe time there was nothing whatever, except my own love of adventureand sport, to keep me from coming home again. But I knew that my coatof arms, and title, would turn every bit of this grumbling into fineadmiration.
And so it fell out, to a greater extent than even I desired; for allthe parishes round about united in a sumptuous dinner, at the MotherMelldrum inn--for now that good lady was dead, and her name and faceset on a sign-post--to which I was invited, so that it was as good as asummons. And if my health was no better next day, it was not from wantof good wishes, any more than from stint of the liquor.
It is needless to say that the real gentry for a long time treated mynew honours with contempt and ridicule; but gradually as they found thatI was not such a fool as to claim any equality with them, but went aboutmy farm-work, and threw another man at wrestling, and touched my hat tothe magistrates, just the same as ever; some gentlemen of the highestblood--of which we think a great deal more than of gold, around ourneighbourhood--actually expressed a desire to make my acquaintance.And when, in a manner quite straightforward, and wholly free frombitterness, I thanked them for this (which appeared to me the highesthonour yet offered me), but declined to go into their company because itwould make me uncomfortable, and themselves as well, in a differentway, they did what nearly all Englishmen do, when a thing is right andsensible. They shook hands with me; and said that they could not denybut that there was reason in my view of the matter. And although theythemselves must be the losers--which was a handsome thing to say--theywould wait until I was a little older and more aware of my own value.
Now this reminds me how it is that an English gentleman is so far infront of foreign noblemen and princes. I have seen at times, a little,both of one and of the other, and making more than due allowance forthe difficulties of language, and the difference of training, upon thewhole, the balance is in favour of our people. And this, because we havetwo weights, solid and (even in scale of manners) outweighing all lightcomplaisance; to wit, the inborn love of justice, and the power ofabiding.
Yet some people may be surprised that men with any love of justice,whether inborn or otherwise, could continue to abide the arrogance, andrapacity, and tyranny of the Doones.
For now as the winter passed, the Doones were not keeping themselves athome, as in honour they were bound to do. Twenty sheep a week, and onefat ox, and two stout red deer (for wholesome change of diet), as wellas threescore bushels of flour, and two hogsheads and a half of cider,and a hundredweight of candles, not to mention other things of almostevery variety which they got by insisting upon it--surely these mighthave sufficed to keep the people in their place, with no outburst ofwantonness. Nevertheless, it was not so; they had made complaint aboutsomething--too much ewe-mutton, I think it was--and in spite of all thepledges given, they had ridden forth, and carried away two maidens ofour neighbourhood.
Now these two maidens were known, because they had served the beer atan ale-house; and many men who had looked at them, over a pint or quartvessel (especially as they were comely girls), thought that it was veryhard for them to go in that way, and perhaps themselves unwilling. Andtheir mother (although she had taken some money, which the Doones werealways full of) declared that it was a robbery; and though it increasedfor a while the custom, that must soon fall off again. And who wouldhave her two girls now, clever as they were and good?
Before we had finished meditating upon this loose outrage--for so Iat least would call it, though people accustomed to the law may take adifferent view of it--we had news of a thing far worse, which turned thehearts of our women sick. This I will tell in most careful language, soas to give offence to none, if skill of words may help it. *
*The following story is strictly true; and true it is that the country-people rose, to a man, at this dastard cruelty, and did what the Government failed to do.--Ed.
Mistress Margery Badcock, a healthy and upright young woman, with agood rich colour, and one of the finest hen-roosts anywhere round ourneighbourhood, was nursing her child about six of the clock, andlooking out for her husband. Now this child was too old to be nursed, aseverybody told her; for he could run, say two yards alone, and perhapsfour or five, by holding to handles. And he had a way of looking round,and spreading his legs, and laughing, with his brave little body wellfetched up, after a desperate journey to the end of the table, whichhis mother said nothing could equal. Nevertheless, he would come tobe nursed, as regular as a clock, almost; and, inasmuch as he wasthe first, both father and mother made much of him; for God only knewwhether they could ever compass such another one.
Christopher Badcock was a tenant farmer, in the parish of Martinhoe,renting some fifty acres of land, with a right of common attached tothem; and at this particular time, being now the month of February,and fine open weather, he was hard at work ploughing and preparing forspring corn. Therefore his wife was not surprised although the duskwas falling, that farmer Christopher should be at work in 'blind man'sholiday,' as we call it.
But she was surprised, nay astonished, when by the light of the kitchenfire (brightened up for her husband), she saw six or seven great armedmen burst into the room upon her; and she screamed so that the maid inthe back kitchen heard her, but was afraid to come to help. Two of thestrongest and fiercest men at once seized poor young Margery; and thoughshe fought for her child and home, she was but an infant herself intheir hands. In spite of tears, and shrieks, and struggles, they torethe babe from the mother's arms, and cast it on the lime ash floor; thenthey bore her away to their horses (for by this time she was senseless),and telling the others to sack the house, rode off with their prize tothe valley. And from the description of one of those two, who carriedoff the poor woman, I knew beyond all doubt that it was Carver Doonehimself.
The other Doones being left behind, and grieved perhaps in somerespects, set to with a will to scour the house, and to bring away allthat was good to eat. And being a little vexed herein (for the Badcockswere not a rich couple) and finding no more than bacon, and eggs, andcheese, and little items, and nothing to drink but water; in a word,their taste being offended, they came back, to the kitchen, and stamped;and there was the baby lying.
By evil luck, this child began to squeal about his mother, having beenpetted hitherto, and wont to get all he wanted, by raising his voice buta little. Now the mark of the floor was upon his head, as the maid (whohad stolen to look at him, when the rough men were swearing upstairs)gave evidence. And she put a dish-cloth under his head, and kissed him,and ran away again. Her name was Honour Jose, and she meant what wasright by her master and mistress; but could not help being frightened.And many women have blamed her, as I think unduly, for her mode offorsaking baby so. If it had been her own baby, instinct rather thanreason might have had the day with her; but the child being born of hermistress, she wished him good luck, and left him, as the fierce men camedownstairs. And being alarmed by their power of language (because theyhad found no silver), she crept away in a breathless hurry, and afraidhow her breath might come back to her. For oftentime she had hiccoughs.
While this good maid was in the oven, by side of back-kitchen fireplace,with a faggot of wood drawn over her, and lying so that her own heartbeat worse than if she were baking; the men (as I said before) camedownstairs, and stamped around the baby.
'Row
land, is the bacon good?' one of them asked with an oath or two; 'itis too bad of Carver to go off with the only prize, and leave us in astarving cottage; and not enough to eat for two of us. Fetch down thestaves of the rack, my boy. What was farmer to have for supper?'
'Naught but an onion or two, and a loaf and a rasher of rusty bacon.These poor devils live so badly, they are not worth robbing.'
'No game! Then let us have a game of loriot with the baby! It willbe the best thing that could befall a lusty infant heretic. Ride acock-horse to Banbury Cross. Bye, bye, baby Bunting; toss him up, andlet me see if my wrist be steady.'
The cruelty of this man is a thing it makes me sick to speak of; enoughthat when the poor baby fell (without attempt at cry or scream, thinkingit part of his usual play, when they tossed him up, to come down again),the maid in the oven of the back-kitchen, not being any door between,heard them say as follows,--
'If any man asketh who killed thee, Say 'twas the Doones of Bagworthy.' *
* Always pronounced 'Badgery.'
Now I think that when we heard this story, and poor Kit Badcock came allaround, in a sort of half-crazy manner, not looking up at any one,but dropping his eyes, and asking whether we thought he had beenwell-treated, and seeming void of regard for life, if this were all thestyle of it; then having known him a lusty man, and a fine singer in anale-house, and much inclined to lay down the law, as show a high handabout women, I really think that it moved us more than if he had goneabout ranting, and raving, and vowing revenge upon every one.
Lorna Doone: A Romance of Exmoor Page 69