A Maggot - John Fowles (24 page)

As I say, sir, I am perplexed as to where his
Lordship now might be, and cannot advise you; and must pray one I
have the honour to count as a most worthy, talented, amiable and
noble friend shall soon be found.

Your obedient servant,

Nicholas Saunderson A. M.

Regalis Societatis Socius

Written by me, Anne Saunderson, daughter.

Historical Chronicle September 1736

The Examination and Deposition of
David Jones
the which doth
attest upon his sworn
oath, this ninth day of
September in
the tenth year of the reign
of our sovereign Lord George the
second,
by the grace of God King of
Great Britain and
of England, &c.
* * *

My name is David Jones.
I am Swansea born, as old as the century, thirty-six years. I am not
married. I am at this present ship-chandler's clerk at Cardiff.

* * *

Q. Jones, I have been at great cost to find you.

A. I know it, sir, and am most sorry.

Q. You have read this summary of Mr Francis Lacy's
deposition?

A. I have, sir.

Q. You do not deny you are he Mr Lacy speaks of?

A. No, sir. I cannot.

Q. But you denied it to him I sent to fetch you
hither?

A. I knew him not, sir. He said at first nothing of
Mr Lacy, and I consider myself with respect that worthy gentleman's
friend, and bound in honour to protect him if I could. For I knew him
as innocent as Jones, sir, in what passed last April. One must look
for one's friends, as the saying goes.

Q. My man says you still denied, when he spoke of Mr
Lacy; that you swore on your oath you knew no such person.

A. It was but to prove him, sir, to see if he knew as
much as he claimed. And when I was satisfied he did, I lied no more.

Q. And shall lie no more, Jones.

A. I shall not, sir. Indeed I shan't.

Q. Be it so. We will come to what happened subsequent
to your setting forth from London. I first desire to know whether
there are any matters in Mr Lacy's deposition, or such of it as you
have read, that you know are false.

A. Not one, sir.

Q. Or inexact?

A. No, sir. 'Twas all as he says, that I know.

Q. Or deficient in any substantial way - were there
matters of import you discovered that you did not tell him?

A. No, sir. 'Twas my duty to tell him all I saw and
marked. And so I did.

Q. There is nothing you can add?

A. Upon my oath, there is not, sir.

Q. Do you deny that you ran away, as Mr Lacy tells,
without his permission?

A. No, sir. 'Twas as I did write him, sir. I would
see my old mother, God rest her soul, and I knew but the Bristol
Channel between us, and thought I should not have better opportunity.
Near is my petticoat, but nearer's my smock, as the saying goes. I
was wrong, sir, I know it. But I have been a bad son, see you, and
wished to mend.

Q. Was not your employment with Mr Bartholomew at an
end, that very next day? Why should you not ask Mr Lacy if you might
go then?

A. I judged he would say no, sir.

Q. Why?

A. Because he's a fearful gentleman, sir, and I knew
would not want to ride alone in those parts.

Q. Had he not been a good friend to you - on this as
well as past occasions? Found employment for you?

A. Well, sir, I won't deny it, and so was I deep
ashamed to treat him, yet see you my conscience as a son and
Christian said I ought, and must. So I did.

Q. And hoped you would find his forgiveness when you
returned to London?

A. I hoped, sir. He is soft of heart too, God bless
him. And Christian likewise.

Q. I would have you tell me what you made of Mr
Bartholomew's servant Dick.

A. I made nothing of him, sir. Jones knew him no
better at the end than at the beginning.

Q. You found nothing strange in him?

A. What was plain to any, sir. That 'twas beyond an
Irishman's belief, a gentleman thinking to employ him for what he
was. He was strong enough, well set, for a good lackey, but naught
else, see you.

Q Not a gentleman's servant, you would say?

A. He did what he was bid, sir, well enough. And I'll
allow his master's secrets was safe enough with him. And his
belongings. He would not even let me touch the little chest we had
upon the pack-horse, that weighed so heavy. Our first day out I would
help him carry it up, he pushed me off; and so for the rest. He was
more jealous cur than serving-man in that.

Q. Marked you nothing else peculiar in him?

A. That he would not laugh, nor even smile, not even
when the company was merry as cup and can. There was a maid at
Basingstoke one morning at the well, where Dick and I and others was
standing by, and would dowse the stableboy for some impertinence, and
ran after him with the bucket but fell, and dowsed herself, which a
dead man would have laughed to see how droll it was. But not he. He
stood always at the coffin's side, as the saying goes. Ever found
sixpence, and lost a shilling.

Q. A melancholy fellow?

A. Simple, sir. As if he had dropped from the moon.
He was more figure of wood than human flesh. Except with the girl. I
could tell your worship a tale there.

Q. Seemed he frightened of his master?

A. No, sir. Quick to his command, but no more than is
natural. Attentive when they spoke by their signs - which I learned
to read a little, and tried to speak to Dick by what I could make out
of'em, but 'twas wasted time.

Q. Why?

A. I cannot say, sir. In simple things, such as help
me tie that, give a hand to lift this, he would understand. Tried I
to ask something of him, of what he thought, no more than in

common friendship at an idle moment, he would not. I
should as well have spoken my mother's Welsh.

Q. So was he not less simple than he seemed?

A. It may be, sir. Some might say that.

Q. I have a deposition of Master Puddicombe, of the
Black Hart Inn. He says you told there of a lunatic fit one night
upon the road.

A. I told tales wherever we went, sir. Mirrors for
larks, as they say.

Q. It was false?

A. Sir, I did in that as I was bid by Mr Lacy and the
gentleman.

Q. That you should spread word the fellow was
moon-ridden?

A. Not in the particular, sir. Since Dick must seem
so close, that I should play the loose-tongued companion, free with
his tittle-tattle, and so put off suspicion.

Q. And did you not say the maidservants should watch
to their dealings with him?

A. I may have, sir. And if I did, 'twas nearer the
mark.

Q. In what way?

A. That was no Italian eunuch, sir, no Faribelly. For
all he lacked elsewhere.

Q. You speak of the maid Louise?

A. I do, sir.

Q. And of other females, upon your road?

A. He had eyes only for her, sir. The other was no
more than spice. To tickle the young women in Puddicombe's house.

Q. And did you not tickle one such in a grosser
manner, Jones?

A. In play, sir. No more, upon my word. I tried for a
buss.

Q. And her bed, sir?

A. Well, I am still young, sir. Begging your
worship's respect I have my natural vigours, like any man. I had had
the goose's simpers at supper, see you. She was but a country malkin.

Q. Very well. Let us pass to Louise. What think you
now of what you first told Mr Lacy, to wit, that you had seen her at
Claiborne's house one day?

A. 'Twas night, sir, and by linklight, no more than a
passing quick as she went in. I did not swear to it. I don't doubt I
was mistook. The eye's a shrew, it will look for the worst. 'Twas a
resembling, not her.

Q. You tell me, you are now positive you was
mistaken?

A. Yes, sir. Was I not?

Q. Why ask you?

A. That you should seem to doubt it, sir. 'Twas
whist, whist, I smell a bird's nest. A fancy I took, that was wrong.

Q. You are positive she was not what you thought?

A. I took Mr Bartholomew's word, sir. Or rather, Mr
Lacy's taking of his word as to who she was. 'Twas well for him,
'twas well for me.

Q. Did you speak much with her?

A. Little, sir. She made it plain at setting-out she
was nice, would keep herself to herself. Why, nice as a nun's hen,
hoity-toity she cared not to look on me, if we sat at table or

had to pass; and had better things than to talk, when
we were on the road. 'Twas fit her name was French.

Q. Was this her niceness not excessive in a purported
maid?

A. So in these times are most of her kind, sir.
Odsocks, they'd all have you believe 'em their mistresses.

Q. No vulgar oaths in this room.

A. I beg your worship's pardon.

Q. You did not know her by any other name?

A. No, sir, how should I?

Q. Know you the name of she you saw to enter
Claiborne's?

A. No, sir, nor he I was with that pointed her out.
Save that he knew she was a prize piece in the house, that was called
the Quaker Maid. And we thought the gentleman we had

brought might be come to go with her. That was the
Marquis of I........, sir.

Q. You were there as chairman, is it so?

A. Yes, sir, as I was by occasion, when I had no
better for my bread.

Q. You went often as chairman to this house?

A. Sometimes, sir. As it fell.

Q. And had never learnt the names of its strumpets?

A. No, sir. Only that it was said to hold the best
flesh in London, for that half the richest culls - begging your
pardon, sir, I would say the greatest gentlemen of London, did go
through its doors.

Q. And you are certain, she you travelled with was
not this whore?

A. I am now, sir.

Q. Did you not ask this Louise whence she came, and
such things?

A. I did, sir, and more times than once before we
came to Amesbury. Such as how long she had been in service, and
where. 'Twas charity to a miser, she had a manner of saying

little to tell you nothing. That was no clack-patten
tongue.

Q. And when you asked her of the going out in the
night at Amesbury?

A. She denied it flat, sir, and grew angry, in a
fluster, then sour as verjuice, and I knew she lied, as to that.

Q. Now, before you knew Dick was privy to her bed,
had you marked any understanding between them?

A. 'Twas plain enough in him, sir, that he was
besotted, to one who watched close if she were by. He'd scarce take
his eyes off her; and once he'd served his master, he'd serve her.

Q. How so?

A. Why, carry her victuals, carry her bundle, what he
could. 'Twas like the old rhyme: He that loves glass without G, Take
away L, and that is he.

Q. But she was more modest in showing affection?

A. More sly, sir. You would take him more her pet dog
than her lover, by the outward of it. But after Amesbury, when 'twas
out, she hid less. She would sleep riding, I see her now, sat forward
there between his arms, head turned to rest against his breast, so a
child would or a wife.

Q. And this, despite she was so nice?

A. 'Tis as the proverb says, sir. Know Eve, know all.

Q. Rode she most often there, or behind?

A. Why to begin, behind, sir, as is most common, like
to mackaw or cockatoon upon a perch. Then took the third day to
sitting forward between his arms, she did say it was more soft,
thereupon the withers; which she might the better have said it was
softer between the lusty fellow's legs, begging your worship's
pardon.

Q Did you not ask her more of him, if they was not to
marry?

A. I did not, sir. For Mr Lacy had told me privily
not to pry further, fear it would seem I was spying on Mr Bartholomew
for him, which he would not have. So I held my tongue and thought
kinder of her, that perhaps at first she feared I might mock her for
her fancy for such a fellow as Dick, and had been short with me for
my own good.

Q. How is that?

A. Why, sir, she was a handsome wench. Love will
creep if it can't go. I daresay my eyes soon told her as much.

Q. You played the gallant?

A. I might have, sir, if she'd let. But 'twas half to
see if she knew what gallantry was. And whether my thinking her one
of Mother Claiborne's lambs was true.