Collected works of j s f.., p.38
Collected Works of J S Fletcher, page 38
“Tut, tut, mistress, the beds will be aired, I warrant. Mistress Parsons is a careful housewife. What say’st thou, Master Dale?”
“I am for the lad to go,” said my father. “‘Twill do him no harm to live with others of his age.”
“’Tis a good school, the Queen’s School at Pontefract,” said the Vicar. “My own lad, Jack, hath been there since Christmas, and though somewhat of a wooden-head, he hath picked up a good deal. Wouldst like to go with Jack to school, Will?”
“Yes, sir, very much,” I answered.
And in the end it was decided that I should go; and my father promised to ride into Pontefract the next morning, and there make arrangements with Dr. Parsons about my board and lodging in the master’s house. And so overjoyed was I at the prospect that I could hardly sleep that night. But early next morning I rose and sought out Jacob Trusty, and told him the news.
“Thou wilt have to fight, William,” said he; “yea, thou wilt have to fight. However, I have no fear for thee. And when thou hast fought and beaten the biggest lad in the school, thou wilt be much respected. For in going through the world, William, boy, thou wilt see one thing, namely, that men never so much respect their fellows as when the same have shown their power. Wherefore remember to hit hard and straight, and to care nothing for what thou gettest in return.”
And then returned my father from Pontefract, with news that he had made arrangements with Dr. Parsons, and I was to go the next Monday; and he had seen Mrs. Parsons, who had promised faithfully to see that my bed was duly aired, upon which assurance my mother plucked up some small comfort, though she was not at all reconciled to the idea of parting with me. And after that all was hurry and bustle in our house, for my mother must see to my new shirts and handkerchiefs, and Lucy must broider my name upon each article, and there was repairing of garments and washing and ironing, so that, as my father said, I might have been going on a voyage to the Indies instead of only to Pontefract. But I have observed that mothers do take a pleasure in making a fuss after their children, and are never so pleased as when busying themselves in that way. It is something which a man cannot understand, but women with children to care for understand it readily.
And so the Monday morning came round, and Timothy Grass harnessed one of the horses to our light spring cart, and my box was put therein and my father took the reins, and I kissed my mother and Lucy, with many admonitions to the latter to take care of my dog Rover, whom I had perforce to leave behind me, and away we drove down the road. I felt an important personage that morning, for I had not only a new suit of homespun upon me, but in the pockets of my breeches there lay a new crown piece given me by my mother, and a shilling presented to me by Lucy, and Jacob Trusty had given me a knife which I had often envied him the possession of, and which had three blades, and a pick for taking stones out of a horses hoof.
On the road between Darrington and Pontefract we came upon Master John Drumbleforth, who was trudging his way to school. My father pulled up the horse, and civilly inquired if Master John would accept of a lift, a question which he at once answered by climbing into the spring cart.
“Why,” said he, “I had at any time sooner ride than walk, as you may well imagine, Master Dale. And so thou art going to school, Will? Well, I will look after thee, if need be.”
He was a rather solid, heavy-looking lad, this Jack Drumbleforth, with a round shining face, and big limbs, but no great height. Unlike his father, the Vicar, he was no deep nor apt scholar, but rather delighted in sports and games, and in an outdoor life. Nevertheless, he was not so dull as to lack observation, and knowing that learning is a thing which helps every man that strives to obtain it, he worked hard, in a plodding laboured fashion, and acquired some knowledge. There were lads of his own age of more brilliant parts, who dashed ahead at a great pace, and could write Latin verses ere ever Jack Drumbleforth had mastered his hic haec hoc, but in the end the tortoise caught the hare, for though Jack was undeniably slow he was very sure.
The new world into which I was now plunged furnished me with much matter of surprise and wonder. Until that time I had seen little of the world, my observations having been confined to an occasional visit to Pontefract market with my parents, which excursions had been great events in my life, and were eagerly expected and pleasurably regretted. Now, however, I was thrown into the company of some hundred and twenty lads, whose ages ranged from ten to fifteen years. Also I was brought under the rule of the Reverend Dr. Parsons, the headmaster, and his assistants, who were younger men, but also scholars and clergymen, and exceeding grave. There was also Mrs. Parsons, the doctor’s wife, who was a motherly lady, and took as much care of us who lived in the head-master’s house as if we had been her own children. For if we needed it she dosed us with medicine, and if one did cut or bruise himself she repaired the damage with lint or oils, and there were poulticings for colds and gruel for such as were unfit for stronger meat, and the weakly were tended with much care. Because of all these things good Mrs. Parsons was much thought of by the lads, and highly respected by their parents. She was a little bustling woman, always cheerful and always ready, and I have since thought that she manifested the greater care for us because it had not pleased Providence that she should have children of her own.
As for Dr. Parsons, he was a little man, somewhat stout, very nimble and active, redfaced and smiling, a strict master, never sparing the birch, and always just in his decisions; wherefore there was hardly a lad in the school who did not feel that praise or punishment was properly meted out. For he confused not the sharp lad with the slow, and made a fine distinction between them that attained knowledge by leaps and bounds, and them that reached it by gradual and constant labour. The dull lad who plodded on patiently met in him a kind and indulgent master; the clever but idle boy received from him a vast amount of watching and of castigation. Half-done work he could not abide, and would rather have had a slow lad work at a task for two hours and know it than see a more sharp-witted one master it in ten minutes.
“Thou art a great lad, William Dale,” said Dr. Parsons to me, when my father had bidden me farewell and departed, “and I doubt not thy mind runneth more on birds’- nests and such-like than on learning. Nay, lad, that is but natural, and none but a fool would have it otherwise. I shall not plague thee overmuch with learning. This counsel, however, I give thee — what thou dost learn, learn well, and be not ashamed if it takes thee two days to master what a sharper lad would master in one. It is better to know why a thing is done than how it is done. Get to the bottom of everything. Let me see thee work steadily, eating thy meals with a good appetite, and behaving towards me and thy fellows as to thy parents and sister. So shall I be satisfied with thee, William. And now, perchance thou wilt get fighting with some of these lads of mine. Well, ’tis one of those things which our perverse human nature prompteth us to. However, William Dale, bear this in mind — never fight until thou art bound to do so. Be not the aggressor. He that gives cause of offence deserveth punishing. So when thou art forced to fight, fight not in anger, but with cool temper, and remember that a shot straight out from the left shoulder is a wonderful thing to cool down thy adversary. And now let us to school.”
When I had had time to look round me, I discovered that of all my new associates there were but two of whom I had any knowledge. One of these was John Drumbleforth, the other was Dennis Watson, the son of that Watson of Castle Hill to whom I have already made reference as being the enemy of my family. This Dennis was a lad somewhat my senior, of a dark and rather forbidding countenance, very masterful, and apt to bear malice against any who fell under his displeasure. Save that I had now and then seen him about his father’s land I knew nothing of him. Between a Dale and a Watson there was never any speech. If we did but meet in the highways we passed each other without word or look. Wherefore I was not over-well pleased to find Dennis Watson amongst my schoolmates. For though I had been taught to hate no man, yet I had a hearty dislike to any representative of the race which had been our enemies for many a generation.
Out of consideration for my newness, Mrs. Parsons put me to sleep in the chamber in which slept Jack Drumbleforth and two other boys of a like age. With these three I naturally became closely acquainted. The name of one of my new room-mates was Thomas Thorpe, the son of a steward on one of the neighbouring great estates; the other was Benjamin Tuckett, nephew of Mr. John Tuckett, the grocer in the marketplace. Ben Tuckett had neither father nor mother, and his uncle’s wife having an objection to great boys in the house, Ben was sent to Dr. Parsons until he should be of an age to be apprenticed to some trade. He was a round-faced, pleasant-tempered lad, always lively, always willing to do any one a good turn, so that he was universally liked. Between Ben and me and Tom Thorpe and Jack Drumbleforth grew up a strong friendship, which lasted many years, until death severed it.
Now from the very first day of my going to school, Dennis Watson made a dead set at me, pouring out upon me as it were all the hatred and malice which his house had for mine. Being somewhat more experienced of the world than I — for he had been at school two years when I went there — he had an advantage over me in some respects, and failed not to use it. He had a following of his own amongst the boys, all those who served under his leadership being noted as comprising the evilly disposed portion of our little community. Presently it became the fashion among these lads to make sport of me, annoying me in whatever way their ingenuity could devise. Thus, if I were engaged in preparing my tasks, I should find a pot of ink spilt over my fair copies, or if I were playing with my fellows in the yard, some one would rudely knock me over, as if by accident. Howbeit, being of an easy nature, I took little notice of these matters until one day came when, by the advice of my three room-mates, I determined to stand it no longer. So when one of Dennis Watson’s men, as if by accident, trod rudely on my toes, I seized him by the collar, and marched him up to where Dennis and his chief associates were standing together. And then I think the whole school saw that something was about to happen, for it gathered round us, and I suddenly found Jack Drumbleforth and Ben Tuckett at my elbow, and Tom Thorpe making his way to me through the throng.
“Now,” said I, shaking the boy, a small one, who had stamped upon my toes, “the next time you or any other treads on me, or spills ink on my paper, or makes other like mistake, I shall take his head and knock it against the wall! That is fair warning.”
Then Dennis Watson laughed in a sneering fashion, and his mates echoed him.
“Pooh!” quoth he; “we all know that William Dale has not heart to fight even a small boy, let alone one his own size.”
“Do you?” I said, going straight to him; “then, Dennis Watson, as you are older than I, and as big, I will fight you now.”
But he would have kept out of that if he could. Nevertheless, his own party edged him on to fight, and mine insisted on it, and presently we were all behind the school-wall, and our seconds were holding our coats. And I, remembering the doctor’s counsel to keep cool, kept cool as long as I could, and at the right moment I gave my opponent one from the left shoulder which spoiled his looks for many a day. And after that there was no more teasing of me, but I was much respected.
Two days afterwards came Dennis Watson to me, as I crossed the playground alone. “Will Dale,” said he, with a strange look of hatred on his face, “I hate you, and always shall. And however long I live, I will cause you such trouble as will make you wish you had never been born.”
Now at the time I made light of this threat, and laughed at it. But I remembered it many a time in the years which followed.
CHAPTER VI.
OF THE DISPUTE IN THE MARKET-PLACE.
IT was in the middle of spring when I was first taken to school, and my life till the end of the following summer was comparatively uneventful. On Saturdays I went home, to tell Jacob Trusty of my doings during the week, and to receive his counsel and admonition on various matters. Those week-end visits home were great events. On the Saturday I visited all my old haunts, took out my dog, saw to my garden, and went round the farmstead renewing acquaintance with man and beast. On the Sunday we went to church as usual. Then came Monday morning again, and I wended my way to school once more, generally catching up Jack Drumbleforth on the road. Having fought and beaten Dennis Watson, there was little else left me to do in that line, for no lad of my own age and size cared to fight with me, and the elder lads were, of course, above battling with their junior. So I went on with my tasks in a steady and laborious fashion, not being over ready of perception, but still determined to do what lay in me. In this manner of life the months passed on quietly. But just as summer was over, and we had brought home the last load of the corn - harvest, there came matters which changed the whole course of my life.
I have already told you that between the Watsons of Castle Hill and the Dales of Dale’s Field there was an ancient root of contention in the shape of a piece of land lying between our respective estates. The ownership of this, which was but a strip of meadow, had been disputed ‘twixt Dale and Watson for many a generation, though neither side had ever sought the aid of the law in order to settle matters once and for all. Formerly, if one house had sent flocks to graze on the debateable ground, the other had forthwith driven the offending animals away. Sometimes blows had arisen from this proceeding, and the servants from each farmstead had turned out with quarter-staff or cudgel, and fought fiercely one with another. But for nearly fifty years previous to my time neither side had claimed the land, though both were equally careful that no right of way should be established across it by third parties. Yet although matters had been quiet, the red spirit of dislike and resentment ran strong as ever, and of all men in that neighbourhood, Rupert Watson of Castle Hill was the only one that my father never held speech with.
It was the first week of September, 1631, and by permission of Dr. Parsons I had come home from school on the Thursday, in order to be present at our harvest-supper, which was a great event, and not to be missed on any account. There were gathered together on that occasion all our servants, male and female, all that ever worked for us on odd days during the year, such as at turnip-hoeing or sheep-shearing times, and with them came their wives and families, so that our great barn was well filled. There were also two or three farmers of our acquaintance from the neighbouring villages, and sometimes Parson Drumbleforth was present to hallow the ceremony, as he indeed was upon this occasion, and with him Jack, who had been permitted to beg off from school. Great doings there were at our harvest-supper, namely, an abundance of provisions and good cheer, and after that dancing to the music of the village fiddler, who sat on a tub in the centre, and played for all he was worth until neither man nor maiden could dance any longer. Nor were the horses forgotten, which had worked so hard during the harvest-month, for they on that night had each an extra feed of corn.
On this particular occasion, when the supper was well over, and Tom Treddle, the fiddler, had just got into the swing of his first tune, Will White, the miller of Smeaton, drew my father aside into a corner, and began to talk to him.
“I am afraid, Master Dale,” said Will, “that you are going to have trouble,” and he nodded his head in the direction of the woods that bound our farm.
“What is it, Will?” asked my father.
“Why, certainly,” answered the miller, “’tis none of my business, and maybe I ought not to meddle with it. But you see my nearest way from home to your place here, Master Dale, lies across the fields. Now, as I came along to-night, I saw that Rupert Watson has turned out his horses into that piece of land which he says is his, and which you say is yours. So therefore I say, I fear there will be trouble.”
“Trouble there will be!” answered my father. “And I am sorry for it, for the old sore has lain unopened these fifty years, and should have healed for what I would have done. But Rupert Watson must not turn his cattle on my land. Well, join the dancers, good Will, and I will consider what’s to be done.”
Now, it was not easy to decide upon a course of action, because there was sure to be trouble, whatever conduct were pursued. For if my father patiently suffered Rupert Watson’s horses to occupy the land, it would amount to an acknowledgment that the land was not ours; and if, on the other hand, he drove them away, there would be resistance on the part of the Watsons, and then would come fighting. However, by the time the dancers had all tired, and the folks were nearly all gone home, my father had made up his mind. So he called up to him Jacob Trusty and Timothy Grass and Reuben Larkspur, and all our regular labourers, ten men and youths in all, and began to talk to them in the barn. “Lads,” said he, “ye know that there is a strip of meadow-land lying between Watsons estate and mine which we both claim? Mine I believe it to be, else I would not claim it. It hath always been understood to be mine, as Jacob here will tell you.”
“Dale’s land it was, and is, and always will be,” said Jacob.
“Well,” continued my father, “for fifty years the matter has been quiet, but Rupert Watson has seen fit to break the peace at last. To-night he has turned his horses into the land in question, thinking, no doubt, that our merry-making would prevent us from noticing the matter. However, Miller White saw them, and told me of it. Now, I am not going to allow Rupert Watson’s horses to feed on my lands. Nor will I simply turn them out. I will take such measure as will lead, I doubt not, to a final settlement of this matter. What say you, Jacob?”
“It hath gone on long enough,” said Jacob. “Let it be settled and done with.”
“’Tis good counsel. Now, lads, there - are ten of ye, and I make eleven. Take each of ye a good stout staff, lest we be attacked, and then follow me, and we will take Rupert Watson’s horses, and put them into pound at Darrington. Then he will have to settle with the pinder ere he can regain them, and if he likes to take the law of me, he is welcome.”
