Christ's Folk in the Dale. IV: The Squire's Crucifix

Irish Jesuit Province

Christ's Folk in the Dale. IV: The Squire's CrucifixAuthor(s): David BearneSource: The Irish Monthly, Vol. 29, No. 336 (Jun., 1901), pp. 312-319Published by: Irish Jesuit ProvinceStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20499761 .

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[ 312 ]

CHRIST'S FOLK IN THE DALE

IV THE SQUIRE'S CRUCIFIX

A FTER the Squire and Father Horbury, the most respectedc

personage in RTidingdale was Colonel Ruggerson, and until the arrival of old Mr. Kittleshot, he was certainly the wealthiest.

He and John Ridingdale's father had belonged to the same regi

ment of cavalry, and ever since the Colonel's retirement he had lived at the Chantry-the only really big house in Ridingdale, for

as you know, the Hall was some distance from the town.

At the time of which I write, it would have been hard to- find a more military-looking man than the Colonel. He looked ten

some said fifteen-years younger than he really was, and in gait,.

appearance, and speech was the ideal officer and gentleman. He

had long been a widower, and scarcely a day passed without his.

paying a visit to the Hall. Two or three times a week he drilled

the Ridingdale lads-" to within an inch of their lives," as Lance

said. "Can't imagine what it is that makes people, 'specially the

Colonel, so jolly different at different times," Harry had remarked

more than once. " You go to the Chantry and he's all smiles and

jokes-grim ones, of course, but real jokes-a-nd it begins to rain

lemonade and to snow pastry and things. He gets on parade, as

he calls it, and begins to drill us, and-well, you can't wink an

eye or whisper a syllable without being spotted and getting punished."

" Yes, on paracde he's a regular marionnette-as William ltethers.

says; but," added Lance, "'it must be all right because father

always backs him up. And then he's an awfully good sort

generally." "You've got to take people on their average, I suspect," said

the thoughtful George. "You remember that golden rule of

Pythagoras we came across the other day-' For small ifaults a

friend must not be hated.' If an old heathen could say that,

surely we can do so. Ana if the Colonel's rough on us some

times, he's always nice with the little ones."



CHRIST'S FOLK IN THE DALE E 33

"Yes," put in Lance eagerly, "I 'specially with Sweetie. But then who could ever be cross with him ?"

I think the lads condoneed a good deal in the Colonel's conduct on account of his devotion to their little blind brother-the only

member of this big family who suffered from any physical defect.

But there were people in Ridingdale who did not let off the

Colonel so easily. They spoke of him, as they found him, they said, and some of them found him a little overbearincg and hard to deal with. They said he had too many fads and that his pre

judices were often unreasonable. To tradesmen he was a terror, and lagging errand-boys feared him more than they feared their

employers. Evil-doers dreaded his appearance on the magisterial bench, and it was seldom that he was in agreement with his brother-justices-of-the-peace. Still, it would never do to quarrel with such a man, people readily enough admitted, for he was

sometimes generous and always just. Moreover, he would send out of town for nothino that the Ridingdale shops could supply, and if he was fastidious in regard to the quality of everything he

bought, he paid promptly and never haggled as to the price.

Perhaps only one or two people suspected that there were some very soft spots in the heart of this ancient warrior. Squire

Ridingdale knew his old friend better than anyone else could pos

sibly know him, and did his best to defend hirn when he was

attacked; but tnere were times when the Colonel's speech and conduct were hard to excuse. His actual knowledge of the poor was of the scantiest, but he credited himself with being the one

man in the Dale who really understood their needs. Is it neces

sary to add that the Colonel and William Lethers did not approve

of one another? The truth really was that the old soldier had very imperfect

sympathies and absolutely no grasp of detail. Nor had he the

patience to look out upon the world as it really is. Things must

be squared to his views, not his views to them. He would have

been horrified exceedingly if you could have proved to him that he.

regarded the little world of Ridingdale as a something that existed

for the sake of Colonel Ruggerson. Yet even a man of such

kindly judgment as the Squire had to admit, at any rate to him

self, that this was verily his friend's attitude of mind.

It was wonderful that two such men could continue to be close

friends. Their respective circumstances could not have been more, VOL. XXIX.-No. 336 Z



314 THE IRISH MONTHLY

dissimilar, their views of many things more unlike. But they

professed and practised a common Faith-the greatest of all bonds

of union. They shared too maany literary and artistic tastes, for

the Colonel was in the fu]lest sense of the word a person of cul

ture, and his appreciation of Mr. Ridinlgdale as a writer was

hearty and genuine-as indeed it deserved to be.

But oh! the contrast between the Chantry and the Hall ! The

latter was not only in bad repair, but quite one-third of its rooms

were unfurnished. To be sure, where there were so many boys

and girls, a few empty apartments were more than useful on wet

days, both for work and play, and indeed Mrs. Ridingale was

thankful that the Hall was no smaller. When she and her hus

band had taken possession of it after their marriage, they wandered

about in comical despair, wondering in what corner of it they

ghould take up their abode and dispose their scanty stock of

furniture; now they had a use for, if they could not adequately

furnish, every room.

On the other hand, the Chantry was a bachelor establishment,

containing a collection of pictures of far greater interest than

many a modern gallery; a library of books big enoug,h to need a

catalogue; an assemblage of china, old furniture, and curios,

mnough for a provincial museum. Over this establishment was

placd a housekeeper who was a notable personage in hiding

Iale, and under her rule was a large staff of servants. The Colonel's

dinner-parties were a proverb for everything that is delicate and

rare acnd costly; but nothing roused the good man's temper so

quickly as any hint at the luxury of his house and table. There

were times when the Squire could not repress a little gentle irony

as he looked upon some new purchase-a vase, or picture, or

folio, or statuette. "I As usual, I suppose, you have picked it up for an old song,"

he said, one day as he -took up the Colonel's latest purchase-a

marvellous bowl of solid silver.

"I Merest trifle, I assure you. Silver's cheap now-a-days."

Ridingdale replaced the bowl rather hastily, and the smile on

his lips died away. For a moment or so he turned his back upon

the Colonel. The Squire was not thinking of himself or of his

family; though a little later, when he sat down to dinner with

the Colonel, he could not help recalling his own mid-day meal

at which the chief dish had been a huge pie wherein the meat



CHRIST'S FOLK IN THE DALE 315

was far to seek, and the potatoes were too plentiful by half. No,

at this moment Ridingdale was thinking, of a case that Lance had

brought under his notice the night before. * * * * X * * *

You know enough of Lance Ridingdale to be sure that once he

developed an idea it was certain to be carried out as soon as possible. When he had consulted William Lethers on the ques

tion of wood-chopping for the infirm poor, you may remember that the old man suggested letter-writing for the benefit of those who

had never handled a pen. Billy himself knew the inconvenience of being unable to write.

However, the A.G.C.D.F.W. had been started with Billy's

approval and help, and Lance gave the bulk of the credit of the idea to his sister Maggie. But he did not forget Billy's suggestion

concerning letter-writing. A long lane connects the park with Ridingdale town, a lane of

great beauty in spring and summer and autumn, and naot without

interest and picturesqueness in the depths of winter. Here and there is a solitary house, and not far from the park-gates stands a row of thatched-roofed cottages. In a place like Ridingdale you soon know, and are known by everybody; but the poor people with

whom Mr. and Mrs. Ridingdale and their children were most inti

mate were, naturally, the folk who lived in Park Lane. Lance could have given you the private and particular history of each

family for several generations. He had known most of them

since the time he could toddle, and though he never asked ques tions, saving those that were purely sympathetic, he was exactly the kind of boy that a garrulous old man or a chatty old woman

would talk to by the hour, and without any reserve. His mother

called him her "Iboy-of-reference" in all things relating to the poor. It is not every lad one would choose for the writing of one's

letters ; but when you have known a person for years, and have

already confided to him most of the details of your past life, you do not scruple to employ him as your private secretary. Lance as a letter-writer was accepted with enthusiasm.

But sometirnes he found it a weary business, One or two of

the old people could dictate a family epistle with a certain ease; others not only wanted him to do the manual part of the business but also the mental.

" It's not for the likes o' rne to be telling you, sir, what to put




down,'" old Betty Brown would say. " It's to me married daugh

ter Sarah I want to send a line just to tell her how I am, and

that I'd like to see her when she can come over, and I've been very

bad for months, and mayn't be here very long, and I want to know

how the childer's gettin' on, and if Georgie's had the chin-cough

yet, and how Annie took her waxination. And tell her, sir, as

how the doctor says it's population o' the 'art as I'm sufferin' from,

and I don't want nowt from her, cause I know as she's got nowt

to spare wi' all them childer and a badly husband, and William

Lethers is very good to me, and that he is, an ony yesterday he said

to me, ' Betty, lass,' he said, ' yo shanna want for a bit o' summat

to eat while I'm alive, that yo shant.' " And so on for a good

quarter of an hour, during whicn time Lance was dying his

flaxen curls withf inferior ink, and wondering how and when and

where he should begin, what he should put into this maternal

letter and what reject. For he was just at that stage of schoolboy

life when handwriting is big and round and legible-before the

scholar has learnt to wield a pen lightly and quickly and easily,

but labours to put into each letter all the ink that it will hold and

a little more-when down-strokes show through the paper andc

up-strokes have to be taken for granted. But it was much easier to deal with the volubility of Betty

Brown than with the timid half-suggestions of poor Mrs. Simkins.

Here indeed was the making of bricks without straw-one might

almost suggest, withouit clay. With her the matter of sending off

a letter was one of those events of a life-time, requiring much

previous consideration, many preparatory interviews, and, before it,

could be finally decided upon, a most careful calculation of ways

and means. "g It's the stamp, miother, that's what it is I feel sure," said

Lance one night as he came back from the Simkins' cottage only

to say that the writing of the letter had been put off for the third

time. "It must be the postage, m-other dear, for the poor old

creature cried awwfully to-night." "I will see her to-morrow morning, darling," said Mrs. Biding

dale. "I know they are very badly off just now, and it may be

that a postage stamp would mean the spending of their last penny, But in future, Lannie, always ask me for a stamp before you go

to write a letter for the very poor." Lance gave his mother an ecstatic hug; he would have




indulged in a clog-dance only that such displays were discouraged in the drawing-room. (A few minutes later Airs. Ridingdale heard

the beat of his wooden soles on the terrace outside.) Even to his mother he would not say that when he hacd a penny-to-night he

was in his usual penniless condition-none of his clients ever lacked a postage stamp.

Like most boys, Lance found it hard to entertain more than one idea at a time, and the notion of the writing of Mrs. Simkins letter had entirely put out of his head certain circumstances that he had intended to mention to his mother. Bgt at supper-time, in the midst of much merriment and a little rallying on the part

of his father, Lance suddenly remembered the curiously empty

appearance of the Simkins' cottage. " I missed the clock last week, father," he said, " but I thought

it had gone to be cleaned. A day or two later I noticed that the

chest of drawers had vanished, but of course I didn't like to say

anything about it. But to-night, father, I saw that Mrs. Simkins' chair, the one with rockers on it, had gone."

"I am sorry to hear all this, Lance, but glad you have told me," said the Squire. " Something must be done at once. What a pitiful thing for an old woman to have to part with the chair she has had all her life, the chair in which she has nursed her children and rocked them to sleep !"

That same night when Lance and all his brothers and sisters were fast asleep, Mrs. Ridingdale said to her husband :-" Do try, dear, and get the Colonel to interest himself in the Simkins."

" I'll do my best, dear, but you know how much he is prejudiced

against them."

"But the wife can't help the faults of her husband," Mrs. Ridingdale urged. "She has always been worthy; the Colonel can have nothingo against her. We have known her for quite eighteen years, and a harder working woman I never employed. Don't you remember, dear, when Lance and George were babies she used to come here to help the servants 2"

"Yes, I remember very well. I am going to dine with the

Colonel to-morrow night, and I'll do my best. I am afraid he won't hear of giving them that vacant alms-bhouse. You know what he is, deax."

* * * * * X * *




Squire Ridingdale did his best, and succeeded-in rousing the

Colonel's anger.

"No, Jack," the old soldier said fiercely, III will not move a

finger to help a man like that. A gross, impertinent fellow!"

(Simkins had had a difference with the Colonel at the last General

Election. ) III am asking you to help the wife," said the Squire quietly.

" Can't be done. Can't help one without the other." The

Colonel passed the decanter of '63 port, and Ridingdale refused it.

"Workhouse is too good a place for a man like that! "

"And for the woman too, I suppose ? There was just the

least shade of bitterness in the Squire's tone. " I decline to discuss either."

Ridingdale fixed his eyes upon a picture that hunng upon the

opposite wall-a copy of David Teniers' famous "Works of

Mercy." He was wondering if the man and woman there,

receiving food and drink and raiment and shelter, were people

without a past. *k * * X * *

The Squire's study was a room in a remote wing of the Hall,

far away from the haunts of clog-shod children and the busy hum

of the schoolroom. Here Ridingdale spent the intervals of time

between the education of his boys and his care of Lord

Dalesworth's estate, in writing for the press. If we except the

large collection of books-out of them all first editions had long

ago been weeded and sold-the room conltained only one object of

value. This was a large and exceedingly beautiful crucifix of

ivory and ebony-one of the Colonel's wedding presents to

Ridingdale and his wife. Perhaps the house contained nothing that the Squire valued so much. The exquisitely carved figure of

Our Lord was the work of a great artist, and, besides being an

antique, it was a real object of devotion.

One morning it disappeared, and about a week later its place was taken by a black wooden cross of the same size, bearing a

figure of plaster. And Lance remembered aftewards that on the

very day this plain crucifix was put up, in the Simkins' cottage

there reappeared-the old Queen Anne clock, the chest of

drawers and the rocklng-chair. Also that, a little later, old

Mrs. Simkins reappeared in the kitchen regions of the Hall.

But to this day Lance cannot understand why at that particular




period the Colonel was so down upon him. Strict and stern the old officer always was on parade, and it was seldom that the boys

were dismissed without one or more receiving punishment generally merited, I am bound to admit, for the young monkeys found it hard to take their drill as seriously as the Colonel desired. In deadly earnest himself, he was apt to forget that he was dealing with boys just let loose from the schoolroom, and the fact

of his beincg short-sighted made him extra suspicious and afraid of

being taken advantage of. Always refusing to order a flogging,

he had nevertheless a code of grim and ignominious punishments,

every one of which Lance had suffered at different times.

Poor Lance who had not the faintest idea that the Colonel

disapproved of the Simkins, or that there had been the slightest difference of opinion between the Squire and the Man of War, told

the whole story to the latter at the first opportunity. Told it

eagerly and in great detail in all the goodness of his young heart, and could not imagine why the Colonel's face grew so black, or

why he showed himself so fearfully ferocious at that day's drill, and ordered him (Lance) to be confined to Barracks for the rest of the day. " For, honour bright, I tried to be extra good this

morning," said Lance to a sympathetic group of brothers, " anld

this is what comes of it!

A month went by, and Mrs. Simkins' husband was seized with

what Dr. Nuttlebig saw from the first was a mortal illness.

"If I see anybody at all, I'd like to see that priest o' yourn," the sick man said to his wife-who immediately sent for Father

Horbury. "Bless my soul!" exclaimed the Colonel when he heard that

Simkins was dying, "you don't say so. I-I-will, I'll go and

see him." He was onlv just in time.

"That poor Simkins made a good end," said the Colonel to the

Squire a day later. Riding,dale expressed his thankfulness. And

then, 4 propos of nothing as it seemed, the Colonel added: " I've

been trying awfully hard to get back that crucifix for you, Jack.

If I don't succeed, you shall have a silver cross with a gold figure."

DAVID BEARNE, S.J.



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Christ's Folk in the Dale. IV: The Squire's Crucifix