Part 6 (1/2)
”Yes, but they will make their way,” said Job. ”So far as I myself am concerned, I do not much care what happens to the land, for I do not mean to remain on it; but I care for the country. For the sake of the country I should like to see the whole thing upset.”
”What thing?” asked Mr. Ferrars.
”Feudalism,” said Job. ”I should like to see this estate managed on the same principles as they do their great establishments in the north of England. Instead of feudalism, I would subst.i.tute the commercial principle. I would have long leases without covenants; no useless timber, and no game.”
”Why, you would destroy the country,” said Mr. Ferrars.
”We owe everything to the large towns,” said Job.
”The people in the large towns are miserable,” said Mr. Ferrars.
”They cannot be more miserable than the people in the country,” said Job.
”Their wretchedness is notorious,” said Mr. Ferrars. ”Look at their riots.”
”Well, we had Swing in the country only two or three years ago.”
Mr. Ferrars looked sad. The reminiscence was too near and too fatal.
After a pause he said with an air of decision, and as if imparting a state secret, ”If it were not for the agricultural districts, the King's army could not be recruited.”
”Well, that would not break my heart,” said Job.
”Why, my good fellow, you are a Radical!”
”They may call me what they like,” said Job; ”but it will not alter matters. However, I am going among the Radicals soon, and then I shall know what they are.”
”And can you leave your truly respectable parent?” said Mr. Ferrars rather solemnly, for he remembered his promise to Farmer Thornberry to speak seriously to his son.
”Oh! my respectable parent will do very well without me, sir. Only let him be able to drive into Bamford on market day, and get two or three linendrapers to take their hats off to him, and he will be happy enough, and always ready to die for our glorious Const.i.tution.”
CHAPTER XIV
Eighteen hundred and thirty-two, the darkest and most distressing year in the life of Mr. Ferrars, closed in comparative calm and apparent content. He was himself greatly altered, both in manner and appearance.
He was kind and gentle, but he was silent and rarely smiled. His hair was grizzled, and he began to stoop. But he was always employed, and was interested in his labours.
His sanguine wife bore up against their misfortunes with far more animation. She was at first amused with her new life, and when she was accustomed to it, she found a never-failing resource in her conviction of a coming reaction. Mrs. Ferrars possessed most feminine qualities, and many of them in excess. She could not reason, but her intuition was remarkable. She was of opinion that ”these people never could go on,”
and that they must necessarily be succeeded by William and his friends.
In vain her husband, when she pressed her views and convictions on him, would shake his head over the unprecedented majority of the government, and sigh while he acknowledged that the Tories absolutely did not now command one fifth of the House of Commons; his shakes and sighs were equally disregarded by her, and she persisted in her dreams of riding upon elephants.
After all Mrs. Ferrars was right. There is nothing more remarkable in political history than the sudden break-up of the Whig party after their successful revolution of 1832. It is one of the most striking instances on record of all the elements of political power being useless without a commanding individual will. During the second year of their exile in the Berks.h.i.+re hills, affairs looked so black that it seemed no change could occur except further and more calamitous revolution. Zen.o.bia went to Vienna that she might breathe the atmosphere of law and order, and hinted to Mrs. Ferrars that probably she should never return--at least not until Parliament met, when she trusted the House of Lords, if they were not abolished in the interval, would save the country. And yet at the commencement of the following year an old colleague of Mr. Ferrars apprised him, in the darkest and deepest confidence, that ”there was a screw loose,” and he must ”look out for squalls.”
In the meantime Mr. Ferrars increased and established his claims on his party, if they ever did rally, by his masterly articles in their great Review, which circ.u.mstances favoured and which kept up that increasing feeling of terror and despair which then was deemed necessary for the advancement of Conservative opinions.
At home a year or more had elapsed without change. The occasional appearance of Nigel Penruddock was the only event. It was to all a pleasing, and to some of the family a deeply interesting one. Nigel, though a student and devoted to the holy profession for which he was destined, was also a sportsman. His Christianity was muscular, and Endymion, to whom he had taken a fancy, became the companion of his pastimes. All the shooting of the estate was at Nigel's command, but as there were no keepers, it was of course very rough work. Still it was a novel and animating life for Endymion; and though the sport was slight, the pursuit was keen. Then Nigel was a great fisherman, and here their efforts had a surer return, for they dwelt in a land of trout streams, and in their vicinity was a not inconsiderable river. It was an adventure of delight to pursue some of these streams to their source, throwing, as they rambled on, the fly in the rippling waters. Myra, too, took some pleasure in these fis.h.i.+ng expeditions, carrying their luncheon and a German book in her wallet, and sitting quietly on the bank for hours, when they had fixed upon some favoured pool for a prolonged campaign.
Every time that Nigel returned home, a difference, and a striking difference, was observed in him. His person, of course, became more manly, his manner more a.s.sured, his dress more modish. It was impossible to deny that he was extremely good-looking, interesting in his discourse, and distinguished in his appearance. Endymion idolised him.
Nigel was his model. He imitated his manner, caught the tone of his voice, and began to give opinions on subjects, sacred and profane.