<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</SPAN><br/> <span class="small1">A FINE SPECTACLE.</span></h2>
<p>We brought the Rose of Devon to her moorings on the south
side of the river, about two miles short of Barnstaple, where a
little bend and creek is, and a place for barges, and "Deadman's
Pill" was the name of it. What could a dead man want
with a pill, was the very first thing I asked them; but they
said that was no concern of theirs; there were pills up and
down the river for miles, as well as a town called Pill-town.
The cleverest man that I came across said that it must be by
reason of piles driven in where the corners were to prevent the
washing, and he showed me some piles, or their stumps, to
prove it, and defied all further argument. For the time I was
beaten, until of a sudden, and too late to let him know, I saw
like a stupid that it must be no other than our own word
"Pwll," which differs much from an English "pool," because
it may be either dry or wet, so long as it lies in a hollow. And
with that I fell a-thinking of poor Bardie and Pwll Tavan.
To be quit of remorse, and to see the world, I accepted old
Ikey's invitation to Barnstaple fair for the very next day. We
could not begin to discharge our limestone, as even that obstinate
Fuzzy confessed, upon a sacred day like that. Fuzzy himself
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_159">[Pg 159]</SPAN></span>
had a mind for going, as we half suspected, although he
held his tongue about it; and my under-mate told me to let
him alone, and see what would come of it.</p>
<p>The town is a pleasant and pretty one, and has always been
famous for thinking itself more noble than any other; also the
fair was a fine thing to see, full of people, and full of noise,
and most outrageous dialect; everybody in fine broad humour,
and no fighting worth even looking at. This disappointed me;
for in Wales we consider the off-day market a poor one, unless
at least some of the women pull caps. I tried, however, not
to miss it, having seen in foreign countries people meeting
peaceably. Of this I could have had no intention to complain
to poor Ikey Hutchings. However, he took it as if I had, and
offered to find me a man from Bratton, or himself, to have a
square with me, and stake half-a-crown upon it. He must have
found early cause for repentance, if I had taken him at his
word; but every one would have cried shame upon me against
such a poor little fellow. And so we pushed on, and the people
pushed us.</p>
<p>After a little more of this, and Ikey bragging all the time,
though I saw nothing very wonderful, we turned the corner of
a narrow street, and opened into a broader one. Here there
seemed to be no bullocks, such as had made us keep springs on
our cables, but a very amazing lot of horses, trotting about, and
parading, and rushing, most of them with their tails uphoisted,
as if by discharging tackle. Among them stood men, making
much of their virtues, and sinking their faults (if they had any),
and cracking a whip every now and then, with a style of applause
toward them.</p>
<p>Now I have a natural love of the horse, though I never
served long on board of one; and I regularly feel, at sight of
them, a desire to mount the rigging. Many a time I have
reasoned to my own conviction and my neighbours', that a man
who can stand on the mizzen-top-gallant yard in a heavy gale
of wind, must find it a ridiculously easy thing to hold on by
a horse with the tackle to help him, and very likely a dead
calm all round. Nevertheless, somehow or other, the result
seems always otherwise.</p>
<p>I had just hailed a man with a colt to show off, and commodore's
pendants all over his tail, and was keeping clear of
his counter to catch the rise of the wave for boarding him,
when a hush came over all hands as if the street had been raked
with chain-shot. And on both sides of the street all people
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_160">[Pg 160]</SPAN></span>
fell back and backed their horses, so that all the roadway stood
as clear as if the fair had turned into a Sunday morning.</p>
<p>Up the centre, and heeding the people no more than they
would two rows of trees, came two grave gentlemen, daintily
walking arm in arm, and dressed in black. They had broad-flapped
hats, long coats of broadcloth, black silk tunics, and
buckled breeches, and black polished boots reaching up to the
buckles.</p>
<p>Meanwhile all the people stood huddled together upon the
pitched stones on either side, touching their hats, and scarce
whispering, and even the showing off of the horses went into
the side-streets.</p>
<p>After all the bowing and legging that I had beheld in the
Royal Navy, the double file, the noble salutes, the manning of
the sides and yards, the drums, the oars all upon the catch, and
all the other glorious things that fit us to thrash the Frenchmen
so, there was nothing else left for me to suppose but that here
were two mighty admirals, gone into mourning very likely for the
loss of the Royal George, or come on the sly perhaps to enjoy
the rollicking of the fair, and sinking the uniform for variety.
How could I tell, and least of all would I think of interfering
with the pleasure of my betters; therefore I stopped in my
throat the cheer (which naturally seemed to rise the moment I
took my hat off), for fear of letting the common people know
that I understood their Honours. But after looking again so
long as one might without being inquisitive, I saw that neither
of these great men could walk the deck in a rolling sea.</p>
<p>I had been so bold in the thick of the horses, that Ikey had
found it too much for him always to keep close to me; but now,
as the nearest horse must have drifted the length of two jolly-boats
away, this little sailor came up and spoke.</p>
<p>"Can 'e show the laikes of they two, in Taffy-land, old Taffy
now?"</p>
<p>"Plenty, I should hope," said I (though proud in the end to
say "not one"); "but what a fuss you make! Who are they?"</p>
<p>"As if thee didn't know!" cried Ikey, staring with indignation
at me.</p>
<p>"How should I know when I never clapped eyes on either
of them till this moment?"</p>
<p>"Thou hast crossed the water for something then, Davy.
Them be the two Passons!"</p>
<p>"Two Passons!" I could not say it exactly as he sounded
it. "I never heard of two Passons."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_161">[Pg 161]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>"'A wants to draive me mad, 'a dooth," said Ikey, in self-commune:
"Did 'e never hear tell of Passon Chowne, and
Passon Jack, man alive now?"</p>
<p>It was hopeless to try any more with him, for I could not
ding into his stupid head the possibility of such ignorance.
He could only believe that I feigned it for the purpose of driving
him out of his senses, or making little of his native land.
So I felt that the best thing I could do was to look at those two
great gentlemen accurately and impartially, and thus form my
own opinion. Hence there was prospect of further pleasure, in
coming to know more about them.</p>
<p>Verily they were goodly men, so far as the outer frame goes;
the one for size, and strength, and stature—and the other for
face, form, and quickness. I felt as surely as men do feel, who
have dealed much among other men, that I was gazing upon
two faces not of the common order. And they walked as if
they knew themselves to be ever so far from the average. Not
so much with pride, or conceit, or any sort of arrogance, but
with a manner of going distinct from the going of fellow-creatures.
Whether this may have been so, because they were
both going straight to the devil, is a question that never crossed
my mind, until I knew more about them. For our parsons in
Wales, take them all in all, can hardly be called gentlemen;
except, of course, our own, who was Colonel Lougher's brother,
also the one at Merthyr Mawr, and St Brides, and one or two
other places where they were customers of mine; but most of
the rest were small farmers' sons, or shopkeepers' boys, and so
on. These may do very well for a parish, or even a congregation
that never sees a gentleman (except when they are summoned—and
not always then); however, this sort will not do
for a man who has served, ay, and been in battle, under two
baronets and an earl.</p>
<p>Therefore I looked with some misgiving at these two great
parsons; but it did not take mo long to perceive that each of
them was of good birth at least, whatever his manners afterwards,—men
who must feel themselves out of their rank when
buttoned into a pulpit for reasoning with Devonshire plough-tail
Bobs, if indeed they ever did so; and as for their flocks,
they kept dogs enough at any rate to look after them. For
they both kept hounds; and both served their Churches in
true hunting fashion—that is to say, with a steeplechase, taking
true country at full gallop over hedges and ditches, and stabling
the horse in the vestry. All this I did not know as yet, or I
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_162">[Pg 162]</SPAN></span>
must have thought even more than I did concerning those two
gentlemen. The taller of the two was as fair and ruddy, and as
free of countenance as a June rose in the sunshine; a man of
commanding build and figure, but with no other command about
him, and least of all, that of his own self. The other it was
that took my gaze, and held it, having caught mine eyes, until
I forgot myself, and dropped them under some superior strength.
For the time, I knew not how I felt, or what it was that vanquished
me; only that my spirit owned this man's to be its
master. Whether from excess of goodness, or from depth of
desperate evil, at the time I knew not.</p>
<p>It was the most wondrous unfathomable face that ever fellow-man
fixed gaze upon; lost to mankindliness, lost to mercy,
lost to all memory of God. As handsome a face as need be
seen, with a very strong forehead and coal-black eyes, a straight
white nose, and a sharp-cut mouth, and the chin like a marble
sculpture. Disdain was the first thing it gave one to think of;
and after that, cold relentless humour; and after that, anything
dark and bad.</p>
<p>Meanwhile this was a very handsome man, as women reckon
beauty; and his age not over forty, perhaps; also of good average
stature, active and elegant form, and so on. Neither years
nor cubits make much odds to a man of that sort; and the
ladies pronounce him perfect.</p>
<p>When these two were gone by, I was able to gaze again at
the taller one. Truly a goodly man he was, though spared from
being a good one. He seemed to stand over me, like Sir
Philip; although I was measured for six feet and one inch, before
I got into rheumatic ways. And as for size and compass, my
parents never could give me food to fetch out my girth, as this
parson's was. He looked a good yard and a half round the
chest, and his arms were like oak-saplings. However, he proved
to be a man void of some pride and some evil desires, unless
anybody bore hard on him; and as for reading the collects, or
lessons, or even the burial service, I was told that no man in
the British realm was fit to say "Amen" to him. This had
something to do with the size of his chest, and perhaps might
have helped to increase it. His sermons also were done in a
style that women would come many miles to enjoy; beginning
very soft and sweet, so as to melt the milder ones; and then of
a sudden roaring greatly with all the contents of enormous
lungs, so as to ring all round the sides of the strongest weaker
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_163">[Pg 163]</SPAN></span>
vessels. And as for the men, what could they think, when the
preacher could drub any six of them?</p>
<p>This was "Parson Jack," if you please, his surname being
"Rambone," as I need not say, unless I write for unborn generations.
His business in Boutport Street that day was to see
if any man would challenge him. He had held the belt seven
years, they said, for wrestling, as well as for bruising; the condition
whereof was to walk the street both at Barnstaple fair
and at Bodmin revels, and watch whether any man laid foot
across him.</p>
<p>This he did purely as a layman might. But the boxing and
bruising were part of his office, so that he hung up his cassock
always for a challenge to make rent in it. There had been
some talk of a Cornishman interfering about the wrestling; and
bad people hoped that he might so attempt, and never know
the way home again; but as for the fighting, the cassock might
hang till the beard of Parson Jack was grey, before any one
made a hole in it. Also the Cornish wrestler found, after
looking at Parson Jack, that the wisest plan before him was
to challenge the other Cornishmen, and leave the belt in
Devonshire.</p>
<p>All this I found out at a little gathering which was held
round the corner, in Bear Street, to reflect upon the business done
at the fair, and compare opinions. And although I had never
beheld till then any of our good company, neither expected to
see them again, there were no two opinions about my being the
most agreeable man in the room. I showed them how to make
punch to begin with, as had been done by his Royal Highness,
with me to declare proportions; and as many of the farmers
had turned some money, they bade me think twice about no
ingredient that would figure on the bill, even half-a-crown.</p>
<p>By right of superior knowledge, and also as principal guest
of the evening, I became voted the chairman, upon the clear
understanding that I would do them the honour of paying
nothing; and therein I found not a man that would think of
evading his duty towards the chair. I entreated them all to be
frank, and regard me as if I were born in Barnstaple, which
they might look upon as being done otherwise, as the mere
turn of a shaving; for my father had been there twice, and my
mother more than once thought of trying it. Everybody saw
the force of this; and after a very fine supper we grew as genial
as could be. And leading them all with a delicate knowledge
<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_164">[Pg 164]</SPAN></span>
of the ins and outs of these natives (many of which I had learned
at the fair), and especially by encouraging their bent for contradiction,
I heard a good deal of the leading people in the town
or out of it. I listened, of course, to a very great deal, which
might be of use to me or might not; but my object was, when
I could gather in their many-elbowed stories, to be thoroughly
up to the mark on three points.</p>
<p>First, about Fuzzy, and most important. Who was he?
What was he? Where did he live? Had he got a wife? And
if so, why? And if not, more especially, why again? Also,
how much money had he, and what in the world did he do with
it; and could he have, under the rose, any reason for keeping
our women so distant? Particularly, I had orders to know
whether he was considered handsome by the Devonshire women.
For our women could not make up their minds, and feared to
give way to the high opinion engendered by his contempt of
them. Only they liked his general hairiness, if it could be
warranted not to come off.</p>
<p>Upon this point I learned nothing at all. No man even
knew Bethel Jose, or, at any rate, none would own to it,
perhaps because Ikey was there to hearken; so I left that until
I should get with the women. My next matter was about
Braunton Burrows, and the gentleman of high rank who
wandered up and down without telling us why. And I might
hereupon have won some knowledge, and was beginning to do
so, when a square stout man came in and said "Hush!" and I
would gladly have thrown a jug at him. Nevertheless, I did
learn something which I mean to tell next to directly.</p>
<p class="pmb3">But as concerned the third question before me (and to myself
the most itching of any), satisfaction, to at least half-measure,
was by proper skill and fortune brought within my reach almost.
And this I must set down at leisure, soberly thinking over it.</p>
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