The Wayfarers by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XII
I DISCOVER A GREAT AUTHOR WHERE I LEAST EXPECT TO FIND ONE
While all this was going forward very eloquent glances were repeatedlyexchanged between the justice and the head-constable. They were bothequally at a loss to know what to do in the matter. Their plain dutywas to have me removed in custody. But this they could not very welldo, seeing on what terms of intimacy I had already been placed. Theremust be a grave mistake somewhere. What it was they were too greatlypuzzled to say, but the end of it all was that my fellow-prisoners wereremoved into the stables against the next morning, when they could bemore conveniently taken to prison, whilst I for the nonce was allowedto remain seated at the table in the society of my whimsical friend.
Sir Thomas's composure had been so rudely shaken that for a long timehe could hardly venture on another word. He sat watching us with akind of stupefied horror, whilst we made short work of several bottlesof his most excellent claret.
"The true Falernian," says my companion, smacking his lips. "I wouldthat Roman fellow were here in the room of Tommie, who sits like a deaddog in a dry ditch. I have remarked it before, and I remark it again,that I can never understand how it is that a man who can keep such afull-bodied, generous wine in his cellar should yet keep such a lean,ill-liberal heart in his body. It is an internal paradox on which Ibreak my brains anew. You would think that one would cry out upon theother, and that they could live together no better than a keg ofgunpowder and a live coal. And how in the first place they ever cameto be associated passes me. Ring the bell, Tommie, and tell 'em tobring us up another bottle a-piece."
While Sir Thomas did so with the mechanical meekness of one wellaccustomed to obey, says I:
"I think I can give you ease on this last matter, sir. Hath it neverstruck you that our host may have bought his cellar at the same shopthat he bought his ancestors? It sticks in my mind that I have metboth his forebears and his vintages before. Indeed, to come down tothe details of this odd matter, I believe at the period of which Ispeak they may have had my name appended to them."
"Shrewdly said, sir," says my companion; and then going on to anothermatter which I had sedulously been leading up to, for I had come to theconclusion that my one chance of ultimate escape lay in betrayingmyself entirely, continued: "You begin to interest me vastly. Iconfess you are a man after my own heart. I like your talk, I likeyour manner, the colour of your eye, the cock of your old beak,i'faith, I like you altogether. You are the very perfect gentle guest;you abuse your host and drink his wine with the same impartial spirit.You bear the same relation to a gypsy as our club-footed Thomas does tothe herald Mercury. No, no, my good sir, it will not do; _ex ungueleonem_."
"Your compliments charm me," says I, raising the glass to my lipsagain, "but I could have wished, sir, that you had not nosed out my_incognito_. It may be the source of a greater inconvenience than Icare to think about, if it and I part company."
"The blame is entirely your own, sir," says the other. "Herculesshould not try to hide behind an arbutus tree. But no man ever hadaught to fear from me, unless that man was myself. To him, it is true,I have been a great enemy. Yet I'll swear on my life that even thatpoor unlucky young man whose name is proscribed in this morning'snews-letter would never be a penny the worse for revealing himself tosuch a rough fellow as me. As for Tommie, I will answer for Tommietoo. It is true that Tommie hath weaknesses, but they are on thesurface mostly. If he can never forget that Nature had a hand in thefashioning of Sir T. Wheatley, Knight, and Justice of the Peace, and isin a sense a self-made man therefore, he nevertheless hath a very goodheart. I can answer for Tommie as for myself."
When he came to mention the "poor unlucky young man," I suppose I musthave winced or blinked a little, or he was a marvellously subtle andkeen observer, for after looking into my eyes, he slapped his hand onhis thigh, and cried:
"By God, can it be? Surely it is too whimsical, too fantastical.These things do not happen outside the story books."
"Such a coincidence is a little after the manner of _Tom Jones_, to besure, sir," says I.
I suppose it was the word "story books" that led to my mentioning thatimmortal novel which at that moment held all the town in a spell ofwonder and delight. But no sooner had I uttered the magic name of _TomJones_ than I thought I saw my companion's flushed face flush deeperthan ever, and at the same instant my mind was assailed with a dozenpoints of recognition. In a flash I jumped to the conclusion that Iwas being entertained by the author of that inimitable work. For amoment we sat regarding one another with the frankest amusement. Thenmy companion took up his glass, and lifting it slowly to his lips, says:
"Lord Tiverton."
Thereupon I followed his polite example; and when the glass was at mylips, says I:
"Mr. Henry Fielding."
Upon that we fell a-laughing wildly, and wrung one another warmly bythe hand. Now that the murder was out we grew closer ingood-fellowship. Had we not shown proofs of an admirable sagacity inour previous respect for one another? The magistrate, however, wasaghast. No sooner was he acquainted with my name than he was besetwith his manifest duty as a justice of the peace.
"As you are a refugee from the law, my lord," says he, lookinganxiously at me and then at Fielding, "I fear that I have noalternative other than to hand you over to the proper authorities. Yousee, as one holding his Majesty's commission of the peace for thiscounty, I am precluded from giving way to any private feelings I mightentertain in the matter, but must do my plain and obvious duty, howeverit be opposed to the dictates of my heart."
The dignity and the rather florid effect of this speech, which I willdo Sir Thomas the justice of saying was very well meant, was utterlyspoiled by Mr. Fielding's reception of it.
"Come down off the high horse, Tommie, if you love me," says he. "Bedamned to the dictates of your heart and your duty too. Do strive tobe natural, Tommie; if you would but be content to be natural I wouldsuffer you gladly, for at bottom you are as good a fellow as I know.But when you get on these magisterial airs of yours a common mortalcannot touch you with a six-foot pole."
"That is all very well, Harry," says Sir Thomas, "but you forget myresponsibilities."
"There you go again," says Fielding. "Be damned to yourresponsibilities. Come and drink a glass of good claret with us andforget yourself, your office, your dignity, your wig, your knighthood,and your laced coat for a brief five minutes. Perpend, Tommie,perpend; and for the nonce consent to be a human being."
"Would you have me, then," says the magistrate, "sit down with a man inmy own house, knowing him to be a great criminal? How can I possiblyentertain such a person? Were I to do so I should be altogetherunworthy of the high trust that hath been reposed in me."
Mr. Fielding scratched his wig.
"A very moral sentiment," says he, "but all the morality in the worldis not worth a penn'orth of humanity."
"Sir," says I warmly, "I am grateful to you. You can scarcely know howan example such as yours helps a drowning man to keep his head abovethe flood that is like to overwhelm him. But I think I owe it tomyself to lessen the weight of Sir Thomas's responsibilities, byassuring you that I am innocent of the horrid crime with which I amcharged. The poor fellow came by his end in a fair fight; andtherefore if you can only overlook the sums I owe my creditors, you mayrelieve your scruples."
"I am more than glad of these assurances," says the justice. "A greatload is taken off my mind."
"On the contrary," says Mr. Fielding, "they make not a farthingworth ofdifference to me. I care not if you are the most long-suffering peerthat ever went to the dogs, or if you are the greatest villain thatever tried to dodge the gallows. What's the odds? You are a properenough fellow for all rational purposes. Certainly I would not chooseto meet Mr. Jack Sheppard in a lonely lane on a dark night, but I wouldas willingly drink a bottle with a lad of his mettle just as well aswith another. If a man shall bear himself gallantly at table, with amerr
Whatever Mr. Henry Fielding's philosophy, and it seemed to have asavour of that of the late eminent Sir John Falstaff, Knight, he was afine merry companion, who asked no better of the hour and the companyin which he sat than that they should consort with his humour. After awhile his wit, his gallant spirits, and his brave bearing before thebottle did not fail of their effect upon the justice too. That staidand pompous fellow resisted them for a time, but as first one and thenanother bottle was numbered among the slain, and our tongues grewlooser as our brains grew warm, he fell at last from his high estateand was seduced into a course that ill consisted with his sentiments.When he had accepted several glasses from Mr. Fielding's own fair handshe began to grow rather thicker in his speech, weighed his words less,and showed several signs of having departed from his usual habit.
"You can see," says Mr. Fielding, winking at me, "that our gallantTommie hath been nurtured on cinnamon-water and Dr. Akenside's sermons.I should say that four glasses are about the limit of him; five, and hegoes over the verge."
Although both Mr. Fielding and I had already accommodated a far greaterquantity than the magistrate, we had served such a much longerapprenticeship to this business (the shame is our own) that whereas wewere scarcely conscious as yet of what we had drunk, the square-toedSir Thomas was already hanging out his evidences. Now no sooner did Iobserve this disposition in him than I was taken with a scheme by whichmy poor fellow-prisoners incarcerated in the stables outside were toprofit. Whatever my shortcomings, I would never have it said of methat I left a friend in the lurch. These poor gypsies had given us oftheir hospitality; that in itself therefore was enough of a reason whyI should endeavour to spare them a hanging. Therefore I suggested thematter to my companion.
"Do you think, sir," says I, "that we can get our good magistrate drunkenough to be worked on to give the order for the release of my poorfriends the gypsies? It is like to go very hard with them, I fear,unless we can find some such way as this to aid them."
"It is very well thought on," says this truly humane fellow, without somuch as pausing to consider the matter. "Leave this jocund oldjusticer to me, and I'll answer for it that the king's enemies shallget a free pardon. Now then, Tommie, by your leave I'll name a toast.We will drink to Law and Order. Fill up, Tommie, and no heel-taps."
So thoroughly did Mr. Fielding enter into this plan, that very soon SirThomas began to babble in his talk with a most unwonted levity, andeven essayed to sing a song. With such assiduity was he plied, that hepresently advanced stage by stage, until my companion considered him tobe sufficiently primed for this business. Thereon Fielding rang thebell and ordered the head-constable, who with his men was keeping guardover the premises, to be brought to him. When that worthy presentedhimself, Mr. Fielding says with an inimitable glib audacity:
"Sir Thomas, after much weighing of the merits of this case, hath cometo the conclusion that the evidence is not sufficient to send theseprisoners for trial. He is sensibly fearful of some miscarriage ofjustice, the more particularly as one of their number that you broughtbefore him hath turned out on an examination to be anything but what hewas represented. Therefore Sir Thomas bids me to inform you that hehath decided to remit these charges. And he would have you releasethese people at once, that they may go about their business. And whenyou have done this, you are to take your men to the kitchen, where theyare to have a good supper of beef and ale, and they can then repair totheir homes. And at least this course, this somewhat extreme course Imay say, that Sir Thomas hath decided on will save you all from a longand weary vigil in the night air."
However surprised the head-constable was at this unexpected turn ofevents, he was by no means disposed to cavil at it, since the only wayin which the fate of the gypsies could affect himself was the one thatMr. Fielding had so adroitly indicated. Not so the scandalizedjustice. Fuddled as he was, he had enough wit left to apprehend whatwas going forward. But he had not enough, however, to interpose hisauthority in a way that was at all likely to take effect. At all histhick and nearly inarticulate protests, his friend Mr. Fielding kepthushing and soothing him down, with highly eloquent and imploringgestures.
"Oh lord, Tommie," he would say, "I pray you have a care. Here am Itrying to conceal the fact that you are abominably drunk, and yet youwill flaunt it and advertise it, before the servants too. Think ofyour own dignity, Tommie, I beseech you."
Whereon the head-constable would rub his coat-sleeve across his face toconceal his laughter. Sir Thomas would grunt and wriggle and writhehis tipsy protests, and his friend, Mr. Fielding, with the oddestmingling of sorrow, amusement, and solemnity, apparently struggled toput the best face he could on the justice's scandalous behaviour.