Читать книгу Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall England - Matthew Stanley Kemp - Страница 11

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TEA-TABLE AND POLITICS

There were three parties assembled around the tea-table, bluff Captain Thomas Lanyan, a brother of Sir James, a sturdy old widower; Mistress Betty Lanyan—a spinster and a distant relative of the family, and Master Richard—a young man in his last year in Eton and the perfect counterpart of his father, only much younger.

Mistress Betty was tall and angular, like Sir James, yet with a good supply of feminine sweetness in her features. The sole drawback to her countenance was her nose, that was neither a thing of beauty nor grace. It was of the large hooked variety, so common to the family. Yet so strange are the freaks of Madam Nature, that the eagle nose of Sir James was universally commended as giving him the commanding and dignified appearance of a statesman; while one of the same variety on the countenance of Mistress Betty was considered exceedingly derogatory and shrewish. Notwithstanding this detractive feature, Mistress Betty was a good-hearted soul. She always had, at least in company, that mellow smile on her face that gave a vivid reality to the stanza,

"Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its fragrance on the desert air."

The Captain was moulded more like his mother's side of the house. Clear grey eyes lighted up a countenance that was rugged and weather-beaten, while the family nose was absent and in its place was the straight, plain variety characteristic of his mother's family. Over his forehead was a long, livid scar that ran from the centre of the forehead, obliquely, to the right ear, a cavalry slash of the battle of Waterloo. Mistress Betty always persisted in having this covered by the Captain's waving grey hair, but the Captain would just as persistently throw his hair up and to one side, revealing the full extent of his old wound. What Mistress Betty was ashamed of was the Captain's glory. Captain Tom lived in tolerable contentment on a government pension, and of all the family, none were upon such intimate terms with the squire as himself.

"Ah, Captain Tom, what cheer?" said the Squire as he cordially shook the hand of the veteran. "And Master Richard, you are quite a man and every inch like your father. And Mistress Betty, I hope I see you well," and the squire made a profound bow that would shame an old-time knight, at the same time grasping her small hand delicately with his own.

The salutations were returned and then, seated around the tea-table that was placed near the immense bow-window, the master of Lanyan requested his guest to pronounce the blessing. The squire, who was seated beside Mistress Betty, perhaps designedly, who knows, for that lady had not given up the custom of angling, proceeded according to his usual custom.

"We thank thee——Oh! zounds and the devil!"

The latter part was like the explosion of a battery of artillery, and with reason. Mistress Betty's lap-dog, an unsightly brute, deeming himself insulted by the proximity of the squire, or perhaps jealous of his mistress' attentions to another—like many a human rejected suitor filled with vengeful spleen, or perhaps—kept waiting for his dinner—and seeing a fat limb much larger than the usual chicken leg near him, he decided to forage for himself. Whatever reason he had within him, the results were the same, for he fastened his teeth most vindictively in the squire's nankeen trowsers. Human nature was not proof against such an assault, and the victim gave vent to the above startling and most unseemly expression. He leaped up from the table, slapping and rubbing the affected part to relieve the pain.

The young Etonian had a grin on his generally calm countenance. Captain Tom with more zeal than wisdom grasped the poker and shoved it through the bars of the grate, saying that they had best have the wound cauterised at once. Sir James was profuse in apologies and Mistress Betty, much vexed, hurried the snarling brute into the library.

"This is out—outrageous," faltered the squire, in the midst of his pain; "such a savage brute, I wonder why you don't have him killed, Sir James."

"Cruel man, to abuse poor Cæsar so," said Mistress Betty, with a flash of the eye.

"Zounds, madam," replied the squire, but he went no further. His inherent courtesy to ladies, and the ap pearance of Captain Tom with the hot poker, caused him to beat a hasty retreat to the table.

With a smile of anguish he sat down, saying, "It is nothing, madam, nothing, Captain Tom—I do assure you—no need of cauterising—the pain has already gone."

Captain Tom very reluctantly replaced the poker, and soon they were all seated, chatting merrily, as if nothing had happened. The squire, occasionally slipping his hand beneath the table and giving the smarting limb a soothing rub, talked as cheerfully as the rest.

"And you won't stand for re-election," said the squire to Sir James.

"Not at present; the times are not yet ripe for reform and we must have a more extended suffrage before I can stand with success," said Sir James, helping himself to another lump of sugar and dropping it carefully into his cup with the air of a sage.

"Fudge," said Captain Tom, "the country doesn't need extended suffrage. Why, brother James, if your ideas go into effect the landed estates will be ruined. We have seen enough of those things over there in France. The people got extended suffrage and the king and the gentlemen got the suffering. Bah!" said Captain Tom in some disdain, "the landed estates must rule, pass out of existence, or give place to a Napoleon," and the Captain thumped the table emphatically with the sugar tongs.

"What a sage student of history you are, Captain Tom, and yet there are some things yet to learn. The revolution in France was not caused by their obtaining the suffrage, but by the retention of suffrage from them until they arose in revolt. A fortunate thing is it for the government that yields to the demands of the people and is not compelled to yield. When the proper form of government is in vogue, then there will be no occasion for the people demanding or of the government yielding. Government should stand halfway between the highest pinnacle and the broadest base of the populace."

"Why, Sir James, you surprise me!" ejaculated the squire; "you may as well turn American with those ideas! Tut—tut!" followed by a disapproving shake of the head.

"A vast discrepancy between Americanism and my ideal. Government in America stands upon a broad base, but is not as truly representative as our own government will become in a few years."

"You speak in riddles, Sir James," replied the squire.

"Well, let me explain. Strictly speaking, there is no real representative government. Even in America, women, negroes and Indians are not represented; neither among those that are represented is there any fair proportion of representation. Jefferson, their great sage, wrote the most foolish thing imaginable when he said 'all men are created free and equal.' It is evident that the opposite is the case. All men are different, different in physical strength, mental power, culture, attainments. Even in infanthood they are different. Equal ity is nowhere on earth, neither in the vegetable nor animal kingdom. It is a manifest injustice then to alter the plan of the Creator."

"Aye, aye, now you are coming around to our opinion," said Captain Tom.

"Not at all. Our present conservative system is wrong and unsafe. Government is resting on the highest pinnacle of the populace, from which position it may easily be deposed."

"Pshaw," said the squire, "I can't understand you; I thought you said our government was more representative than the American."

"No. I said it will be in a few years. In America the Church is not represented, neither are the institutions of learning—although they ought to have some special representation as well as the States. Now mark me well. In a few years, a decade at the most, the franchise will be extended to the humblest shop owner, house owner and tenant, and only the criminals and the utterly uneducated will have no voice in the government. Then we will have a more representative government and a more stable one than our American cousins. More representative, because colleges, universities, the clergy, and large and small property owners will have their respective portion of power; more safe because the roughest and lowest element of society will not have a controlling and dominating influence. How is it now, however? The landed proprietors and men of influence pack our House of Commons as they please. Everyone knows of Old Sarum—that it hasn't a single inhabitant, and yet it sends a member to the Commons, while Manchester, Leeds and Birmingham have no voice whatever in the affairs of the nation. We must have an extended suffrage. The people want it," and Sir James silenced his batteries.

"Well, so far as I can see," said Captain Tom, doggedly returning to the charge "the people are not demanding anything. Our people are comfortable and happy. Corn has arisen in price and our farmers are growing rich."

"Aye," said the squire, "so far as I can see, things are pretty prosperous. Corn has risen to fifty shillings per quarter."

"Ah," said Sir James, contemptuously, "what benefit is it for Cousin Jack in Cornwall to have a full stomach, and Tom in York and Devon to have an empty one? Fine national prosperity, that. Squire, you are interested in your own section, Captain Tom reads nothing but war news, and so both of you are blind to the signs of the times. The memory of the Blanketeers is still before the public and the pulse of the middle classes is mounting higher and higher. What signify the riots of last year and the affair of Peterloo?"

"A set of rebellious knaves, that need the hand of the Iron Duke to teach them their manners," replied Captain Tom, who was indignant to be accused of ignorance on national affairs. "A set of rebellious knaves, but where do you find gentlemen marching side by side in a cause with such a rabble."

"William Cobbet, the journalist," rejoined Sir James.

"Aye, a ploughman," sniffed Captain Tom, in some disdain.

"Aye, and more than a ploughman," added young Master Richard. "There's Sir Francis Burdette, Lord Brougham, the great Canning, Lord John Russell, Grenville, and Earl Grey—and Canning and Grey were Etonians." The last part was uttered with a little triumph in the tone.

"Ah, the young cock is beginning to crow," said Captain Tom, who knew not what else to reply.

Sir James looked pleased at this heavy broadside from his son and then again took up the reform cudgel, saying: "Very true, and even the younger Pitt over twenty years ago agitated the subject."

Here the squire thought it time to assist his friend, Captain Tom, and also show that he was not destitute of knowledge on national affairs.

"Tut, tut, that is a bad argument; Pitt abandoned his position as untenable, and——"

"Aye, he knew he couldn't hold the position and retreated as a sensible general should," interrupted Tom.

"Because of the excesses of the French revolution," replied Sir James.

The spirited debate went on with varying success to either party, Mistress Betty participating, sometimes on one side, and at times on the other, always sympathising with the weaker party, as women generally do. Toward the close, Captain Tom and the squire being hopelessly put to rout by the combined wisdom of Etonian and parliamentarian, she faithfully adhered to the former side, until even Captain Tom was forced to admit that, though a woman was of no service in a battle, yet they made pretty fair tongue-soldiers.

"Well," said the squire, as he was preparing to go, "your remarks, Sir James, have convinced me of one thing, and that is your sincere disinterestedness in self and your love for old England and her welfare. You are a statesman, sir, and we shall soon see if we can't place you in Parliament; aye, Tory or Liberal,—what matter—so long as the man is honest and capable."

Now this was exactly what Sir James had expected, and he shook hands cordially.

"Hold on, squire, we must have James there as a Tory. I don't believe he is as much a Liberal at heart as he pretends. Don't surrender the standard, squire," said Captain Tom.

A servant was holding in readiness the squire's cob, and assisted him to mount. Raising his hat, gallantly, to Mistress Betty, and waving an adieu to the others he paced briskly down the drive and out on the highway.

"What a courteous gentleman, and young, though he is a widower," murmured Mistress Betty. "Did you notice how, out of respect for my feelings for Cæsar, he didn't utter any complaint."

"Fudge," said Captain Tom, "that was due to his brave spirit in enduring pain. What a soldier he would make!"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed young Master Richard, "the old gentleman thought more of the hot poker than he did of courage or courtesy."

"It was courtesy," reaffirmed Mistress Betty.

"It was courage," exclaimed Tom.

"It was hot poker," reiterated the Etonian again and again, until under a score of reproaches from Mistress Betty and Captain Tom,—the former emphasising the courtesy, the latter the courage of the squire,—he found safety in speedy retreat.

Sir James said nothing until after Master Richard's exit, and then he broached the squire's desire of an alliance between the families.

"It seems we'll get the estates of the Manor in our family after all, and by a much more honourable method than father tried. That deed always did make me half ashamed of our name."

"Captain Tom," said Sir James, with a little of asperity in his voice, "the plan that exposed a traitor was perfectly honourable."

"I have always had my doubts whether my old comrade, Major Tommy Trembath, was a traitor, or his father either. They were both too honest to be guilty of treason. Why, look at the record of old Captain Ande at Culloden and Prestonpans. He was a hero. There he stood with Gardner at Prestonpans, fighting gallantly until stricken down with overwhelming numbers, and there was Major Tommy in the Peninsular campaigns. Aye, the more I think of it the more am I inclined to disbelieve the report of their treason,—but circumstances were against them," and the old soldier sighed, and with a halting step, due to a wound—a relic of the Napoleonic wars,—he tramped once or twice up and down the veranda. When he ceased, the look of sadness was gone and a humorous twinkle was in his eye. Around his weather-beaten countenance there was the faint trace of a smile of merriment.

"However, it is a good plan,—this marriage—and—if Cousin Betty can catch the squire we'll have a double claim on the Manor."

"Why, Captain Tom, how absurd!" exclaimed Mistress Betty, blushing confusedly.

"A tell-tale blush! I'll have to tell my old friend, the squire, of his opportunities to capture the stronghold of ages, that has remained unconquered for——"

"How absurd!" exclaimed Mistress Betty, in mingled anger and confusion, as she beat a hasty retreat to her apartments.