Chapter IX: The Committee Meets

Mr. Churchward found some difficulty in arranging a representative committee to consider the water leat celebrations. Many refused to join him--among others Woodrow. To the master of Ruddyford he wrote, in his expansive way, and begged that he would "represent the outlying agricultural interests"; but Hilary declined, and John Prout consented to fill his place.

"'Tis all smoke and wind, no doubt, but 'twill please the man," he said.

There met together at the schoolmaster's house Jarratt Weekes, old Valentine Huggins, Noah Pearn--the landlord of the Castle Inn--John Prout, and two others--men of repute in Lydford. They were the miller, Jacob Taverner, and the postmaster, a weak and pink-eyed person, called Nathaniel Spry. Him Mr. Churchward regarded as a satellite, and patronized in a manner at once unctuous and august.

Weekes opened the proceedings while the men were getting out of their coats.

"Is Squire Calmady coming?" he asked.

"I regret to say that he is not," answered the schoolmaster. "I approached him _in propriâ personâ_ by letter, and he replied that the meeting would be very safe in our hands. I hope you all think the same. Anyhow, we have paid him the compliment; we can do no more."

"There's no gentlefolks on the committee, then?"

Mr. Taverner, who was a stout radical, and saturated with class prejudice, resented this suggestion.

"Gentle or not gentle, Jarratt Weekes, we are all pretty solid men, and know how to behave, I believe."

"I vote Mr. Churchward into the chair, neighbours," said the postmaster. "Then we shall have wisdom over the committee."

Adam bridled, but held up his hand in a deprecating manner.

"I want no power--nothing of the sort. I'm only your servant in this matter. But since somebody must--in fact, I leave myself in your hands."

"'Tis your own house, so you'd better take the lead, and I'll second the motion," declared John Prout.

"Shall us smoke, or would it be out of order?" asked the landlord of the Castle Inn.

Spry looked imploringly at the schoolmaster. He hated the smell of tobacco, and suffered from a nervous cough. But Mr. Churchward liked his pipe as well as smaller men, and he declared for smoke.

"I've a new box of 'churchwardens' in this drawer," he said. "I beg the committee will make free with them. Now--but where's Mr. Norseman? Speaking the word 'churchwarden' reminded me of him. We want him to complete the committee."

The official in question almost immediately joined them. Henry Norseman was a swarthy, black-bearded, sanctimonious man, the factor of important estates, and churchwarden of the people.

They sat round the table that Mr. Churchward had cleared for them. Pens and paper were arranged upon it, and the box of clay pipes stood in the midst. A fire burnt on the hearth, and two oil lamps gave light.

"'Tis a very comfortable committee, I'm sure," said Mr. Huggins, stretching for a tobacco pipe, and bringing a flat metal box from his trouser pocket to fill it.

Mr. Churchward opened the proceedings.

"What we have to decide is the sort of thing we are going to do the day the water comes into Lydford. I have my idea, but I am quite prepared to submit it _sub rosa_. If anybody has a better one, I shall be the first to agree thereto. Now my notion is a public holiday and a procession. This procession should start from the high road and walk through Lydford down to Little Lydford, and back. At a foot's pace 'twould take not above three hours."

"And I propose that the procession stops at the Castle Inn on the way back," said Mr. Pearn.

"Why?" asked Jarratt Weekes, pointedly, and the publican bristled up.

"Why do people stop at an inn?" he asked, in his turn. "That's a damn silly question, if ever I heard one."

"You're out of order," retorted Weekes. "Though, of course, we all know very well your meaning."

Mr. Pearn lifted his chin very high.

"All right, all right!" he said. "What d'you want to open your mouth so wide for? I suppose every man of this committee has a right to be heard? And I suppose we've all got an axe to grind, else we shouldn't be here?"

"You'll have your say in due course, Noah Pearn. Don't waste the committee's time interrupting," said Mr. Prout.

But the landlord proceeded.

"I'm the last to want to waste anybody's time--know the value of time too well. But this I will say, that I'll give a free lunch to fifty people on the day--three courses, and hot joints with the first--if 'tis understood everyone pays for his own drinks. That's my offer; take it or leave it. So now then!"

"I was going to say 'order'; but, since you submit a definite proposal, I won't, Mr. Pearn. Well, that seems a patriotic offer--eh, gentlemen?"

Mr. Churchward glanced about him and caught Mr. Henry Norseman's eye.

"We ought to vote on that," declared the churchwarden.

"I'm against liquor, as you know, and cannot support the idea, owing to conscience."

"No good voting--I don't care what you vote, and I don't care for a teetotaler's conscience. Take it or leave it. Free lunches for fifty, and them as drinks pays for it," repeated Mr. Pearn.

"I advise the committee to accept that," said the miller Taverner. "'Tis a public-spirited offer, and if Noah does well out of the beer, why shouldn't he? In fact, I second it."

"Are we agreed?" asked Mr. Churchward, and all held up a hand but Mr. Norseman. The publican resented his attitude as a personal slight.

"Don't you come to fill your belly with my free lunch, then--that's all, for you won't be served," he said, furiously.

"Have no fear," answered the other. "I never support drink, and never shall, Mr. Pearn."

"Order--order!" cried the chairman. "The free lunch is carried. Now, neighbours, please hear me. The first thing to decide is, shall we or shall we not have a procession? If any man can think of a better idea, let him speak."

"Impossible," declared the postmaster. "You have hit on exactly the right thing, Mr. Chairman. A procession is the highest invention the human mind can ever reach on great occasions, and the most famous events of the world, from ancient times downwards, are always marked so. The bigger the affair, the longer the procession. History is simply packed full of them."

"Hear, hear, Spry!" said Mr. Taverner. "And what the postmaster says is true. 'Tis always a solemn sight to see men walking two by two, whether they be worthies of the nation or mere convicts chained together."

The committee, without a dissentient voice, agreed to a procession, and Mr. Churchward was much gratified. He bowed from the chair.

"I'm very pleased to have been the humble instrument of expressing your views in a word, gentlemen," he began. "And now arises the question of the nature of the pageant."

"The Goose Club might walk, for one thing," suggested Mr. Prout.

"It shall," answered Pearn; "as the president of the Goose Club, I can promise that."

"And I'll speak for the Ancient Dartymoor Druids--Lydford Branch," said Jacob Taverner. "But I won't promise the banner if the day be wet. It cost three pounds, and wouldn't stand weather."

"That's very good to begin with, I'm sure," declared Mr. Churchward; then old Huggins made his first contribution to the debate.

"Us must have brass moosic, souls. There's nought like trumpets--they'll carry off anything. I mind when Jimmy Briggs was buried there never was a poorer funeral--nought but five or six humble creatures behind, and me an' a few other men to carry him. But, just as we stopped to change hands, what should go by but a four-hoss coach! And the guard didn't see us, and blowed a sudden blast as would sartainly have made us drop the carpse if he hadn't been on the ground for the moment. But there 'twas; it gave a great grandeur to the scene, and comforted the mourners, like the Trump of Doom."

"Brass music, of course," said Jarratt Weekes. "The Okehampton Yeomanry band is very good, and their black and silver uniforms would look fine in the show."

"They'll cost a pot of money; that's the worst of them," said the postmaster.

"As to that, my dear Spry, we must, of course, approach the subject in a large and hopeful spirit. When everything is arranged I shall propose an appeal to the district. I have thought of this, too, and, I consider, if we can collect thirty to forty pounds, that should cover all expenses."

Mr. Churchward it was who spoke.

"You'll never get as much as that--or half of it," declared Weekes. "What are you going to show 'em for the money?"

"That's the point. I propose----"

Mr. Taverner, who had been whispering with Mr. Pearn, interrupted.

"Excuse me if I'm not in order; but I beg to say that talking's dry work, and I should like for to ask if we may send round to the 'Castle' for a quart or two?"

The chairman looked round him.

"Agreed," said Mr. Prout. "I second that."

"I've no objection in the world," declared Mr. Churchward.

"I should have suggested it myself," remarked Noah Pearn; "but for obvious reasons, gentlemen, I couldn't."

They applauded his delicate feeling, and Adam spoke to Nathaniel Spry.

"If you walk across to the inn, Nat, you'll find my son in the bar for certain," he said. "Just tell him to fetch over two quarts of mild, and write it down to me; and put on your overcoat afore you go, for the night is sharp."

"And I'll ask for a bottle of lemonade, if there's no objection," added Mr. Norseman.

The publican was mollified at this order, and while the others talked, he turned to his former enemy.

"I hope you'll not think twice of what I said, and come to my free lunch with the rest, Henry Norseman," he said.

The other nodded.

"Plenty of time, plenty of time," he answered.

"I can't sit cool and hear beer attacked," explained Mr. Pearn. "As a man of reason, you must see that."

"Certainly, certainly. I'm not unreasonable--I'm large-minded even over beer, I believe. If we must have it--poison though it is--let us have it good."

"And the man who says he ever got bad beer at my house is a liar," concluded Mr. Pearn.

The schoolmaster rapped on the table and resumed the main discussion.

"Now as to this procession," he began. "We must have features. I believe I am allowed some claim to be original in my ideas. Indeed, I am too much so, and even in the scholastic line, find myself rather ahead of the times. But with a procession, what can be better than originality? Then I say we must have some impersonations--historic characters--to walk in procession. They must be allegorical and typical, and, in fact, emblematical."

He paused for breath just as Mr. Spry returned.

"William's going to bring the beer to the committee in five minutes," said he.

"You've missed some long words, postmaster," remarked Mr. Taverner. "The chairman here have got a great thought for the procession. 'Twill be better than the riders,[1] if it can be done."

[1] _The Riders_, a circus.

"Allegorical, emblematical, _et hoc genus omne_," declared Mr. Churchward, and mopped his forehead.

"Trust schoolmaster to make a regular, valiant revel of it," said Mr. Huggins. "'Twill be very near as good as Wombwell's beast show, if the committee only stands by Mr. Churchward to a man."

"Have you thought who the great characters should be?" asked Henry Norseman doubtfully.

"I may have done so, churchwarden," answered the chairman; "but that's for us in committee. We must argue upon it. I invite you all to give your ideas; and what poor knowledge of history I may possess is at your service."

"St. George for one," said Jarratt Weekes; and everybody looked at Mr. Churchward.

He considered and nodded his head with gravity. The propriety of the idea was obvious; but Adam disliked the younger Weekes and grudged him credit.

"The patron Saint of England--eh? Well, there's no objection to him, certainly," he said, but without enthusiasm; and Jarratt instantly made his annoyance clear.

"Objection to St. George! Good God! I should think there wasn't any objection to St. George! What next, I wonder? If St. George ban't done, I'll leave the committee--so I tell you. You're glumpy because you didn't think of the man yourself!"

"Order! order!" cried Mr. Churchward. "Far be it from me to cast any slur on the name of St. George. But there are so many other notable personages to consider; and as I am of opinion that we can hardly manage more than five or six at the outside, I felt doubtful. However, let us have St. George by all means. Those in favour of St. George will kindly signify the same in the usual manner."

St. George was honoured with a unanimous vote. Then Mr. Huggins piped in.

"And do let's have the old dragon, souls! St. Garge be nought without un."

"The dragon! The dragon, Huggins?" asked Mr. Churchward. "That's rather startling--and yet----"

"Certainly the dragon," said Mr. Prout firmly; "Valentine's right there."

"'The Infant' might play dragon very nice," suggested Mr. Pearn.

"Not he--too fat," declared Jarratt Weekes brutally; and William Churchward's father was a good deal hurt.

"My son is not too fat," he answered. "William may be stout; but I imagine a prosperous dragon would be stout, for that matter. Wasn't St. George's dragon prosperous before he met St. George, Mr. Spry? You are pretty well up in the heathen mythology, I believe."

"Thank you for that kind word, schoolmaster," said Spry. "And he was prosperous. 'Tis all a fable, but----"

At this moment William Churchward entered. He was a huge, burly, thick-necked young man with a voice that surprised the ear. One expected a solemn bass and heard a ridiculous treble. William had bulbous, pale grey eyes like his father's, flabby chops and a small mouth.

"There's your beer," he said. "Good Lord! you old blades be going it seemingly."

"Would you play dragon, 'Infant,' and let St. Garge pretend to stick his spear into 'e?" asked Mr. Huggins.

"Us be going to have a dragon in the procession--with St. George a slaying of him, William," explained Mr. Prout.

"The 'Infant' will never let himself be slain, I'm afraid?" murmured Nathaniel Spry in a questioning voice.

"You'll have to wear an outrageous tail, William, an' cover your gert carcase in glittering scales," declared Jacob Taverner. "But I don't think you ought to be allowed to roar, for you haven't got a dragon's voice--to say it kindly."

"'Twill come down to play-acting in a minute," grumbled Mr. Norseman, "and I don't hold with that, I warn the committee. If there's to be any May games of that sort, I'll lay it afore the vicar."

William helped himself to a churchwarden from the box, and prepared to depart.

"You'm a rare old rally," he said; "and all drunk a'ready, I should think."

"You don't follow the course of the argument, my son," explained his father. "However, I'll make it clear at another time. You mustn't stop now, because we are in committee, and it would be irregular."

"Bless you nose, I don't want to stop!" replied William. Then he made a mock bow and departed.

When he had gone, Mr. Spry, who was a peace-loving man, proposed that they should drop the dragon. Pearn, Prout and Taverner, however, held out for the monster loudly, and Mr. Huggins supported them.

"Better have a sub-committee to decide," sneered Jarratt Weekes; but Mr. Churchward ignored his satire and put the question to the vote.

"Dragon romps home!" cried John Prout.

"St. George and the Dragon have passed the committee," announced Mr. Churchward. "And now, gentlemen, perhaps you'll kindly help yourselves."

There was an interval of clinking glasses and bubbling liquor. A smell of beer permeated the chamber.

"All's going wonderful well," sighed Mr. Huggins. "I hope we haven't nearly finished yet."

Presently the discussion was resumed.

"With your permission, I will now myself submit a character," said the chairman, "and it is no less a solemn figure than the patriarch Moses."

"Your reasons?" asked Jarratt Weekes sharply.

Mr. Churchward flushed, but was not disconcerted.

"Moses brought forth water from the rock. It would be symbolical and religious to have him in the procession. We've brought forth water from the rock. There you are--an allegory in fact."

"You couldn't have hit on a higher idea in history, schoolmaster," asserted Nathaniel Spry.

"There's no offence?" asked Mr. Norseman. "You're sure there's no offence, schoolmaster? You know what his reverence is."

"I do," answered the chairman. "And I also know what I am. I believe that, when it comes to decorum, Mr. Norseman, I am generally allowed to be _facile princeps_. If I am wrong I hope somebody will correct me."

Jarratt Weekes uttered a contemptuous sound into his glass as he drained it; then old Huggins spoke.

His voice was tremulous, and he evidently laboured under great suppressed excitement.

"I do beg and pray of the committee as you'll let me be Moses, souls! I'm old enough--up home fourscore to a week--just the man's age when he denied and defied King Pharaoh. An' my beard's a regular Moses beard; an' I'm accounted wise to the eye, so long as I keep my mouth shut. 'Twould be the first and last act of note that ever I should do, an' a very fine thing to be handed down in my favour for my grandchildren to remember."

There was an awkward silence. Mr. Prout and the schoolmaster whispered aside, Mr. Norseman and Mr. Taverner shook their heads.

"Let him--let the old blid do it," said John Prout under his breath. "Might be a gracious act. He couldn't mar it, if he said nought."

Mr. Spry also whispered into the chairman's ear.

"Does he bear himself straight enough in the back? That's my fear. And the stone tables--he'd droop to the ground under them."

Mr. Huggins pleaded again.

"I'd wear the holy horns on my brow and everything; and many a married man would rather not. But 'tis nought to me."

"I had thought to write speeches in character for the emblematical people, and perhaps some verses," said Churchward; whereupon the face of the aged Huggins fell.

"Don't ax me to say nought," he begged. "Even as 'tis, if I walk as Moses, I shall be sweating for fear under my sacred coat; and if I had to tell a speech, I should disgrace myself and the company without a doubt."

"I'm against speeches altogether," declared Jarratt Weekes; "and so's Mr. Norseman here. We won't have no play-acting and no chattering of silly verses."

Mr. Churchward glared at his foe, and Weekes glared back and poured out more beer. The chairman thought of certain rhymes already in his desk, and Mr. Spry, who knew of these rhymes, cast a timorous and sympathetic eye at his gloomy friend.

"Schoolmaster's made some beautiful speeches, that nobody here could mend, for he's been so very good as to let me read them," he said.

But the sense of the meeting was for a dumb show; Mr. Huggins had his way and became self-conscious and nervous from that moment. Like greater men, he won his ambition and lost his peace of mind for evermore.

Sir Francis Drake, who brought water from Dartmoor to Plymouth, was suggested by the postmaster and agreed upon with enthusiasm; then Mr. Churchward proposed a Druid and Mr. Spry seconded, but Norseman protested.

"No heathen--no heathen!" he said. "'Twould be a reproach and make us a byword. Let's have St. Petrock--him that our church be named after. He might travel side by side of Moses, and keep the show well within Christianity."

"St. Petrock is good," declared Adam Churchward. "St. Petrock is a thought worthy of you, Norseman. Spry and I will consult our books about him. I second that, certainly."

The drink was done, and Mr. Pearn, aware that his part in the debate had sunk to nothing, advanced an idea.

"Why for shouldn't us have a lady hero? How would it be, Mr. Chairman, if Jezebel, Queen of Sheba, went among 'em?"

"Jezebel wasn't Queen of Sheba," answered several voices simultaneously.

"Not?" exclaimed the publican. "There now! If I didn't always think she was."

"You should read your Bible better, Noah Pearn," said Mr. Norseman; "and I object to women displaying themselves in the show at all."

"Churchwarden's right: don't have no women," advised John Prout. "They'm not fitted in their intellects to stand the strain of a public procession without getting too overbearing. They'm better kept under, in my opinion. You might lift up some comely maiden and turn her head for all time by it."

"If we had a queen at all, it should be Queen Elizabeth," said Mr. Churchward.

"Why?" asked Weekes.

"To walk along with Sir Francis Drake," answered the postmaster promptly. "That's sound history and sound sense."

"Don't have no queens," urged Mr. Prout. "Mark me, they'll spoil all with their giggling and nonsense."

"How be the heroes going to travel?" inquired Taverner. "For my part I think a hay-wain would be best. They'll get in a jakes of a mess if they go afoot down to Little Lydford. You know what the road is, even in dry weather."

"_C[oe]teris paribus_," answered Mr. Churchward thoughtfully.

"Very likely," admitted Taverner, "but, all the same, a hay-wain will be best."

Then it was that Jarratt Weekes allowed his gathering anger to bubble forth in a very acute explosion.

"Why the hell can't you talk English?" he asked the chairman. "I'm sick to death of your bumbling noise. Whenever you don't know what the deuce to answer a man, you fall back on some jargon, that may be Latin, or may be gibberish more likely. You don't know any more than us what your twaddle signifies; but you know we can't laugh at you, and so you're safe to pretend a lot of larning you haven't got. What does _c[oe]teris paribus_ mean, anyway?--I ask you that afore this committee, and I will be answered!"

The chairman grew red and blew a heavy blast through his nostrils. Mr. Spry cried out "Shame--shame!"; Mr. Huggins was frightened.

"The committee is adjourned," answered Adam very haughtily. "And for the benefit of those who have so little education, and who envy those who may be better endowed in that respect, I may remark that _c[oe]teris paribus_ means--it means, in the manner in which I employed it, that the question of a hay-wain shall be decided at the next meeting. And that is all I have to say, except that I expect an apology."

"And all I have to say is that you won't get one," answered Mr. Weekes very rudely.

The company rose, and a date having been appointed for future deliberations, every man prepared to go on his way.

Jarratt Weekes refused to apologize, despite efforts on the part of Prout and Norseman to make him do so. He persisted in the display of a very ferocious temper, and expressed grave doubt as to whether he should again join the committee. None pressed him to do so.

"A beautiful meeting," said Mr. Huggins to Mr. Taverner, who saw him home. "I'm sure I hope I shall be spared to see many more such afore the great day cometh."