CHAPTER V.
How fair thy vales, thy hills how beautiful! The sun, who sheds on thee his parting smiles, Sees not in all his wide career a scene Lovelier, nor more exuberantly blessed By bounteous earth and heaven. The time has been when happy was their lot, Who had their birthright here.
SOUTHEY’S _Roderick_.
The state of the agricultural population around Calbury, at the time of the return of the two friends to their regiment, was by no means such, in outward appearance at least, as to justify the apprehensions which, according to Lord Framlingham, were entertained by the government. The greater demand for labour, and the consequent increase of wages, which the summer had occasioned, seemed to have extinguished the stormy passions kindled by cold, hunger, and compulsory idleness.
The country itself looked bright and gay, and the fields with their rich crops of corn gave promise of plenty, comfort, and tranquillity. Warenne was tempted to hope that the fear of disturbance was ill-founded, and that the symptoms of insubordination, on which it was grounded, had arisen from a temporary pressure, which was past and would not recur. The first hours after their arrival were dedicated to the inspection of the troops, the order and discipline of which were highly commended, to Frank’s infinite delight.
This necessary duty concluded, the two brothers and Henry retired to Warenne’s apartments, and Warenne called on Frank to give some account of his proceedings during the time he had held the command of the regiment.
“Why, I have had but a dullish _séjour_ in this place, I must say,” replied Frank; “my chief occupation has been to preserve my dignity; and, if it were not that once or twice I have been seduced into a smile by the earnest admiration of sundry blue and black eyes which encounter me in my perambulations, I should say I had succeeded admirably. People assert that the labourers in the neighbourhood are discontented; but I cannot say that I perceive it. I see them on a Sunday as happy as beer and love can make them. They are not refined, perhaps, in their mode of carrying on the war; and the fastidious might think it unsentimental at least, if not indecorous, in the women, to wait round the doors of the public-houses, and take possession of the men as they come forth red with beer, and reeking with tobacco; but I am above such prejudices, and have no doubt that the rogues enjoy life extremely.”
“Have you observed no signs of an evil spirit abroad in other quarters?” interrupted Warenne.
“Faith, none,” rejoined Frank, “unless you deem such the curious specimens of division of labour which have been displayed here lately by the beggars and trampers. In former times, it was thought that one man might sell, if not make, many bundles of matches. Now, it is no uncommon thing for two men to be occupied in the sale of one bundle; in the same way, generally speaking, there are two to hawk one boot lace, and always two to buy a hare skin or a rabbit skin. Then, again, there are always two sailors, who have been ship-wrecked together, and saved together, and who have preserved from the wreck precisely the same things, viz. a very clean white shirt and white pair of trowsers, and for whom therefore one story serves when they ask your charity. I never in my life saw such a number of these vagabonds as now, and they beg in a tone which, in a bye-place, can hardly fail to alarm women, if not men. Seriously speaking, Gerald, though it may to you sound foolish to say so, I do not know what to make of these fellows; I cannot understand how they all exist, unless they have some secret mode of obtaining a livelihood, different from the ostensible one. I don’t half like them, and I do not think my better genius, Nanny Rudd, is more pleased with them than I am.”
“Who the devil is Nanny Rudd, Frank?” said Henry.
“Not to know Nanny,” continued Frank, “argues yourself unknown. She is the most important personage in the town, in the eyes at least of all the little boys and girls who play about its public walks. She is the queen of heart-cakes, and bulls-eyes, _et l’objet de mes plus tendres amours_. Do not be frightened, Gerald—she is a dear blind old Irish beggar-woman, the widow of a man of the name of Rudd, whose brother keeps that little ale-house, the Rose and Crown, as you enter the town by the London road.
“Rudd was a private in the Guards, and went with them to Egypt under Abercromby, where he was wounded and died. She accompanied him thither, and nursed him till his death. She afterwards herself unfortunately caught the ophthalmia, and lost both her eyes. The officers and men, with whom she was a great favourite, brought her carefully to England, and by her own wish settled her in this place among her husband’s relations. She lives now on a small pension with her brother-in-law, who is very kind to her, and she ekes out her little modicum by the sale of her cakes.”
“But what can a blind old woman know of the state of the country, or how does it happen that she is a friend of yours?” interrupted Henry.
“You are so impatient, Henry,” replied Frank, “you would know every thing, and the reasons thereof at once; but I shall not spoil the story of my best adventure during your absence, to satisfy your impetuous curiosity. _Il faut toujours commencer au commencement._ You must hear the narrative of our first introduction, or you close my lips for ever on the subject of Nanny Rudd; for if there is an action in the course of my military career of which I am proud, it is the deed of ‘derring do,’ as Ivanhoe would have called it, which first won me her esteem.”
“Come, be quick then,” said Henry, laughing; “when, how, and where did you meet with this wondrous lady?”
“More questions! Henry? you are positively incorrigible! Our first acquaintance was on this wise: a parcel of young urchins were playing on the walk where she usually sits with her basket, and one of them attempted to obtain some of her tartlets without going through the necessary form of paying for them. Nanny, who hears like a mole, made a dash at the young rogue, just as he had his hand in the basket, and seizing him with a hand of iron began to thrash him well with her stick, reproving him at the same time for his misconduct with a considerable flow of military eloquence. The other boys came to the rescue. Nanny kept her hold, and brandished her stick. Their charge, however, was not to be resisted; they released their companion, gained possession of the basket, from which Nanny had wandered in the struggle, and were retiring triumphant, when I reached the field.
“In an instant I flew to the succour of the discomfited fair, routed her insulting foes, and recovered for her her (empty) basket. Cæsar would have said, _Veni, vidi, vici!_ I then led her to her old seat, and having given her half-a-crown was taking my departure, in order to enjoy in solitude the satisfaction of having exhibited both valour and generosity, when she said to me in her own sweet accents,—
“‘I’ll sit a bit, your honour, and catch my wind; them little blackguards blowed me;—and then I’ll go home. I’ll never draw a halfpenny the whole day, unless I bait my basket with a cake.’ I asked her if I could assist her on the road. ‘No, no; thank you all the same,’ continued she; ‘but if you’d just tell me who your own self is, that comed in the nick of time to presarve me from them childer, I’d be obliged to you. You are a soldier by your step—I can tell that as well as if I saw you; and an officer by the softness of your voice and the delicacy, not to say iligance, of your expressions.’ Mark you that, Henry. I told her my name, rank, &c. and we parted. The next day I came to inquire after her health, and we had a long gossip together about her own dear country, since which I have paid her a visit almost every day, and I flatter myself have entirely won her heart. ‘Captain Warenne,’ said she to me the other day, ‘I like you; you are always very kind to me, and can always find time to spake a word or two to me, which is more than many will do to the like of me. You are a soldier, too. I loves a soldier. I wish you had been _fut_, for _fut’s_ more natural to me; but all can’t be _fut_, and I’ll never forget you if I can do you a good turn.’”
“Your Nanny is charming,” interrupted Henry; “and having heard her opinion of you, I am really anxious to know what she thinks of the beggars who have moved your spleen.”
“She entertains little doubt,” answered Frank, “that they are the emissaries of some evil-disposed parties in the country, and the medium of communication between different districts and the metropolis; and her conclusions are drawn from the remarks which she has heard fall from the labourers and mechanics in this town, with whom her brother’s alehouse is a favourite place of resort.”
“Indeed,” said Warenne; “and does she think that they are likely to produce a disturbance?”
“She certainly does,” replied Frank; “for about three or four days ago, when I paid her a visit, she bade me be cautious not to be seen talking to her. ‘I sits,’ said she, ‘in my brother’s chimney-corner of an evening, with my bit duddeen; and because I’m blind, folks believe I can’t hear. There’ll be a row after harvest, or Nanny’s a liar; but your honour shall know in time. A’n’t I a soldier’s widow, and bound to keep the peace? I’ll just reconnoitre the ground for you cleverly; but you must not be seen spaking to me daily, or I’ll be suspected. You can drop past me as you go to see your men at the Boot of a morning; and, if the coast is clear, say ‘Good morrow, Nanny;’ you would go to your men natural like, and then I can asy tell you if I have larnt any news, without putting it into men’s heads that I’m thick at head-quarters.’”
Warenne recommended Frank to keep up his acquaintance with Nanny Rudd, observing that it was only by employing every, even the humblest means in their power of obtaining an insight into the actual condition of the country that they could hope to preserve tranquillity. His long acquaintance with a disturbed district had taught him that very frequently a little circumstance would better indicate the real spirit of a population than their actions, as a feather or a straw thrown into the air will more readily point out the direction of a current of wind than any more ponderous body.
Warenne now turned his attention to the magistracy in the town and neighbourhood, and sought every opportunity of mixing in their society; in which endeavour Henry and Frank were both of much use to him; the former from the position in which he stood as brother to the heiress of Epworth and the latter from his having, during the summer, by his gay off-hand manner, and happy disposition, made himself a welcome guest at many houses in the vicinity. To the different persons of influence he suggested the advantage of arranging a constabulary force, upon the system of a noble lord in a neighbouring county, and the propriety of their previously fixing on some definite plan of action, in case the apprehensions of the government for the repose of the country should be realized.
It is a very difficult thing to give advice; and all people hate it, unless they have decided on their line of conduct; in which case they have, generally speaking, no objection to prove the superiority of their own views on the subject to those of their advisers. Warenne, however, was so mild, so gentle in manner, so entirely free from all appearance of dictation, so ready to listen, so well informed on all points, and so practical in his measures, that he succeeded in effecting the preparations he desired. By the time harvest was over his precautions were completed.
At this period, Adelaide and her father were daily expected at Epworth, and Warenne’s heart sunk within him at the thought of being again thrown into her society, now that their relative position was so changed; but he was not permitted to dwell long upon this topic without interruption.