_THE WAVE OF REVOLT_
“Fegs! if theer’s tu be a bobbery up tu Pentreath, us lads o’ St.
Bride’s wunt be left owt on’t!”
“Dashed if us wull! Wheer theer’s fightin’ and a fillyboo, theer’s
more’n hard knocks to be gotten. Us’ll soon see what us can get by un!”
“Aw dally-buttons, that us wull! They du say as our Saul’s theer in t’
thick of un. But what’s it awl about? Dost any o’ yu knaw?”
The swarthy fishermen looked each other in the face with a grin, but
nobody seemed ready with an answer.
“May’ap ’tis because the king’s dead,” suggested one.
“Naw, ’tidden that ezakally,” objected another. “’Tis becos they
Frenchers ’ave abin an’ gone for tu ’ave a new bobbery ower theer--what
the great folks calls a reverlooshon. They’ve a druv theer king over tu
England: that’s what ’as set all the lads ower heer in a takin’ after
theer roights.”
“’Tidden theer roights theer a’ter,” remarked a woman who was sitting
hunched up in the chimney-corner of the hut where this confabulation
was going on, “’tis other folks’ goods they want. They thinks wheerever
a bobbery be theer’ll be gutterin’ and guzzlin’, and that’s all they
care for. You’d a best ’ave nowt tu du with un.”
But this piece of advice was received with ridicule and disfavour.
“Ef theer be zo much as gutterin’ and guzzlin’ why shetten us be left
behind? ’Tidden much of either us gets nowadays with those dashed
customs-men always a’ter we. Crimminy! but us’ll take our share ef
zo be as theer’s awght to be gotten. I’ve heerd tell theer be a real
hollerballoo up tu Pentreath. I be agwaine to see un.”
“Zo be I! Zo be I!” echoed in turn a dozen or more voices, and from the
dim chimney-corner there only came a rough snort of disapproval.
“Go ’long wi’ ye then. When the dowl’s abroad ’twidden be in yer to
bide tu home. Go ’long and help make the bobbery wusser. ’Tidden hurt
I. But it’ll be a poor-come-along-on’t for some o’ yu, I take it.
Theer’ll be trouble at St. Bride along on’t.”
The men hesitated for a moment, for the old woman who thus spoke had
won the not too enviable reputation of being next door to a witch, and
of reading or moulding future events--which, it was not altogether
certain in the minds of the people. She was a lonely widow woman, but
lived in one of the best cottages in the place, where she kept a sort
of private bar, selling spirits and tobacco to the fishermen, and
allowing them to make use of her sanded kitchen, where at all seasons
of the year a fire was burning, as a place of resort where all the
gossip of the place could be discussed. They never put two and two
together in seeking to account for the occult knowledge possessed by
the old woman respecting the private concerns of the whole community.
She affected to be rather deaf, and therefore low-toned conversations
were carried on freely in her presence. Old Mother Clat was quite a
character in her way, and a distinct power in the fishing community of
St. Bride.
But her advice was not sufficient to deter the bolder spirits from
taking part in the exciting scenes known to be passing in the country
round them. At that moment England was passing through a crisis more
perilous than was fully realised at the time. The sudden revolution in
France, which had culminated in the abdication and flight of the king,
the death of the English king, George the Fourth, at almost the same
moment, and the whispers in the air that Belgium and other countries
were about to imitate France, and rise in revolt against the oppression
and tyranny of princes, acted in an extraordinary fashion upon the
minds of the discontented population of this land. The long period of
depression and distress, whilst it had ground down one section of the
community to a state of passive despair, had aroused in others the
spirit of insubordination and revolt. Like leaven in the loaf was this
fermentation going on, greatly helped by the knowledge that the cause
of the people was exercising the minds of many of the great ones of the
land, and that in them they would find a mouthpiece if only they could
succeed in making their voice heard.
Now when there is any great uprising in any one district, there is
generally a local as well as a general cause of complaint; and in this
remote West-Country district it was far less the question of reformed
representation and the abolishment of certain grave abuses which was
exercising the minds of the community than the fact that new machinery
had recently been set up in some of the mills at Pentreath, and in
some of the farmsteads scattered about the district; and the panic
of the Midlands had spread down to the South and West, the people
fully believing that this would be the last straw--the last drop of
bitterness in their cup, and that nothing but absolute starvation lay
before them unless they took prompt measures to defend themselves from
the dreaded innovations.
The Midlands and North had set the example. Ever since the rising
of the Luddites there had been more or less of disturbance in the
manufacturing districts, where, of course, in the first instance the
introduction of machinery did throw certain classes of operatives out
of employment; and they were unable to realise that this would soon
be more than made up to them by the increase of trade resulting from
the improvement in the many complicated processes of manufacture. In
the North the riots were on the wane. It was just beginning to dawn
upon the minds of the more enlightened artisans, that if they would
leave matters to take a peaceful course they would soon see themselves
reinstated in the mills, where trade was growing more brisk and active
than ever before. But away down in the remote West, any innovation
was received with the greatest horror and aversion, and the people
had heard just enough about their wrongs to be in that restless state
when any sort of activity becomes attractive, and any uprising against
authority appears in the light of an act of noble resistance to tyranny.
Pentreath was an ancient town, though a small one. It sent a member to
Parliament, although the huge and fast-increasing towns of the North
did not. Of late years it had become a small centre of manufacturing
industry, the water-power there being considerable. There were two
cloth-mills and one silk-mill, a paper manufactory, and another
where soap and essences were made. One reason why the district round
Pentreath was not feeling the general poverty and distress very keenly
was that from the rural districts men who could not get employment
upon the land could generally find it in the mills. But when almost at
one and the same time improved machinery became introduced both into
agriculture and manufacture, the sense of revolt was deeply stirred. A
certain number of turbulent spirits had been simultaneously dismissed
both from the farms and from the mills, and these two contingents
at once banded together in somewhat dangerous mood to talk over the
situation and their own private grievances, and to set about to find a
remedy.
It was the Duke who first introduced the machinery into the
neighbourhood, although he had dismissed no servant of his until three
of his men were found tampering with and injuring the new machine,
when he promptly sent them about their business. Their bad example was
followed by others, and four more were summarily dismissed; whereupon
the Duke let it be thoroughly understood that any servant of his taking
that line would be promptly discharged, but that he had no intention of
dismissing any of those on his estate who were orderly and obedient,
and used the improved implements in a right and workmanlike way. This
declaration had the effect at Penarvon of stopping depredations for
the moment, and no more labourers were sent away; but those who had
already received notice were not taken on again: for the Duke, though
a just and liberal master, was a stern upholder of law and order, and
had no intention of having his will or his authority set at naught by a
handful of ill-conditioned fellows, who refused to listen to any other
guides than their own blind passions.
These men gravitated naturally into Pentreath, in the hope of finding
employment there, only to be met by the news that the mills were
turning off hands, owing to the saving of labour by the introduction
of improved machinery. The band of what in these days would be termed
“unemployed” gathered together by common accord, and roved the streets
by day, begging and picking up odd jobs of work as they could get them,
and meeting at night in a low tavern on the outskirts of the town to
spend their pittance generally on raw spirit, and to talk sedition and
treason.
Possibly, had no other power been at work just at that juncture,
the whole thing might have begun and ended in talk; but there were
other forces in operation, all favourable to the spirit of revolt and
vengeful hatred which actuated this small band; and as discontented men
of every class draw together by common consent, however various their
grievances may be, so did the newly aroused politicians of the place,
eager and anxious to awaken the country to a sense of its political
grievances, and the urgent need of parliamentary reform, gravitate
towards the little band of discontented labourers and operatives, sure
of finding in them allies in the general feeling of revolt against the
prevailing system, which they had set themselves to amend, and hoping
quickly to arouse in them the patriotic enthusiasm which kindled their
own hearts.
Saul’s friend the cobbler was the first to address these men on the
subject of the hoped-for reform. He went to them upon several evenings,
strove to arouse in them a sense of indignation against prevailing
abuses and evils, and found his task an easy one. Wherever he made out
that the country was suffering from the oppression of tyrants and the
greed of the rich, he was received with howls of approval and delight.
The answer of his audience was invariably a cry of “Down with it! Down
with them!” They would have rushed with the greatest pleasure through
the streets, and attacked the houses of the mill-owners, or have broken
into the mills and gutted them, had there been any to lead them. But
the cobbler was a man of words rather than of action. He was one to
foster fierce passions, but his talents did not lie in directing the
action which follows upon such an arousing. One Sunday afternoon, it
is true, he headed a procession which marched through the streets,
shouting and threatening, so that the people shut their shutters in
haste, and begged that the watchmen or the military might go out and
disperse the mob. No harm, however, came of the demonstration, save
that an uneasy feeling was aroused in the minds of the townfolk, who
looked askance upon the haggard men seeking alms or employment about
their doors, and were less disposed to help them than they had been at
first.
Thus the ill-feeling between class and class grew and increased, and it
was to a band of men rendered well-nigh desperate by misery and a sense
of burning wrong that Saul came down one Sunday, his own heart inflamed
by passion and hatred, to supplement the efforts of the cobbler by one
of his own harangues, which had already won for their author a certain
measure of celebrity.
Saul had greatly changed during the past six months, changed and
developed in a remarkable manner. When he stood by the orchard wall
making love to Genefer Teazel, he had looked a very fine specimen of
his race, and superior in many points to the labourers with whom he
consorted, and whose toil he shared; but since the rapid development
of his mental faculties had set in, he had altered wonderfully in his
outward man, and no one to look at him would believe, save from his
dress and the hardness of his hands, that he had spent his life in mere
manual toil on a farm. His face, always well-featured, had now taken
an expression of concentration and purpose, seldom seen in a labouring
man; the eyes were very intense in their expression, and, as the
fisher-folk were wont to say, went through you like a knife. His tall
figure had grown rather thin and gaunt, as though the activity of the
mind had reacted on the body, or else that he had been denying himself
the needful support for his strong frame. He looked like a man whom it
would not be well to incite to anger. There was a sufficient indication
in his face of suppressed passion and fury held under firm control,
yet ready to blaze up into a fierce life under provocation. He looked
like a man born to be an Ishmaelite in his life’s pilgrimage--his hand
against every man, and every man’s hand against him--a man in revolt
against the world, against society, against himself. A keen and yet
sympathetic physiognomist could hardly study that face without a sigh
of compassion. Saul Tresithny, with his nature, his temperament, his
antecedents, could scarcely have any but an unhappy life--unless he had
been able to yield himself in childlike submission to the teachings of
his grandfather, and look for peace and happiness beyond the troublous
waves of this world, to the far haven of everlasting peace.
Saul had spent the past six months in close reading and study, whenever
time and opportunity were his. First from his friend the cobbler, then
from his friend the Duke’s heir, he had received books and papers; and
out in the fields in his dinner-hour, or trudging to and fro with the
plough, or up in his attic at night, with his companions snoring around
him, he had studied and read and thought--thought till it seemed often
as though thought would madden him, read until he looked haggard and
wan from his long vigils, and he found the best part of his pittance of
wage go in the purchase of the rushlights by which he studied his books
at night. Eustace had lent him histories of other nations--down-trodden
peoples who had revolted at last from their oppressors, and had won
for themselves freedom--sometimes of body, sometimes of mind, at the
sword’s point. Eustace had tried to choose writers of impartiality;
but his own bias had been too strong to make him a very good director
of such a mind as Saul’s; and when a man of that temperament reaches
passages which are not to his liking, he simply skips over them till
he reaches what is more to his taste; and Saul had invariably missed
out those explanatory and exculpatory pages, wherein the historian
shows the other side of the question, and explains how some of the
grievances most declaimed against by an oppressed people are the result
rather of circumstance, and the changing order of the day, than the
direct outcome of a real injustice and tyranny.
So his mind rapidly developed in a fashion by no means desired by
his mentor; and so soon as the restraining influence of Eustace was
removed, the wild and ardent imagination of the young man had full
sway, and he had none to give him better counsel or strive to check
the hot intemperance of his great zeal. He avoided his grandfather,
and Abner was too wise to force his company where it was not wanted.
He would not speak to Mr. St. Aubyn when the latter found him out, and
sought, in his gentle and genial way, to get the hot-headed youth,
of whom much talk was going about, to make a friend of him, and open
out upon the subjects of such moment to all the country. No; Saul
maintained a rigid and obstinate silence; and the Rector went away
disappointed, for he feared there were evil days in store for Saul.
Farmer Teazel, who was a staunch old Tory, and an ardent believer
in the existing state of things, even though he admitted times to
be bad in the immediate present, had no manner of patience with his
new-fangled notions, that were, as he said, “driving honest folks
crazy.” He had winked at Saul’s conduct as long as he could, valuing
the many sterling qualities possessed by the young man, and hoping
every day that he would turn over a new leaf. But his patience had long
been sorely tried. Saul, not content with haranguing the fisher-folk
down in the hamlet, who were always ready to imbibe any sort of lawless
doctrine--their one idea being that the law and the customs were one
and the same, and that to revolt against any existing order was a step
towards that freedom of traffic which was their idea of prosperity and
happiness. Not that they wished the excise duties withdrawn--for that
would render abortive their illicit traffic; but they always fancied
that there was advantage to be gained from stirring up strife and
revolting against established order, and were eager listeners to Saul’s
speeches. But not content with that, Saul was working might and main
amongst the more placid and bovine rustics, his fellow-labourers on the
farm, to emulate the fisher-folk in their restless discontent, and with
this amount of success, that when Farmer Teazel, in imitation of his
noble landlord, introduced with pride and delight a new and wonderful
machine into his own yard, his own men rose in the night and did it
some fatal injury, which cost him pounds to repair, as well as delaying
for a whole month the operations which it had especially been bought to
effect.
This was too much. The farmer was in the main a placid man and a
good-tempered one; but he could not stand this, and he well knew whom
he had to thank for the outrage. Whether or no Saul had prompted the
men to do the mischief mattered little. It was he who had fostered in
them the spirit of disobedience and self-will which had been at the
bottom of the outrage; and so long as he remained on the place there
was no prospect of things being better. Before his anger had had time
to cool, he summoned Saul, and a battle of words ensued, which led to
the summary dismissal of the young man, whilst the farmer strode out of
the kitchen, in which the interview had taken place, in a white heat of
rage and disappointment.
Saul stood looking after him with a strange gleam in his eyes, and then
his eyes caught sight of Genefer crouching in a corner with her hands
over her face.
Saul had not thought much of Genefer all this while, as presumably she
had been well aware; but the sight of her distress touched him, and
he would have approached her to offer some rude sympathy, had she not
suddenly sprung up and faced him with blazing eyes and a fury only
second to that which her father had displayed.
In the emphatic and most idiomatic vernacular, which is always used by
natives in moments of excitement, she told Saul _her_ opinion of him
and of his conduct; she let loose in a flood all the mingled pique,
anger, disappointment, and jealousy which his conduct of the past
months had inspired. That he should presume to ask her love, and then
care for nothing but wild notions that savoured to her of the devil
himself, and which all right-minded people reprobated to the last
extent, was an insult she could not put up with. Woman-like, she had
looked to stand first and to stand paramount with handsome Saul, when
once she had permitted him to woo her; and instead of this, he had
heeded her less and less with every week that passed, and had even
refused to remain on Sunday at the farm when she had asked it as a
favour; and at last had done this mischief to her father through his
mischievous, ill-conditioned tongue. She would have none of him, no,
not she! He might go to his friends the fisher-folk, or to the slums of
Pentreath for a wife, if he wanted one!--she would have none of him!
He had been false to her, he had treated her shamefully, and now he
might go. She never wished to see him again! And bursting into tears
(the almost invariable climax to an outburst of anger with women of her
class) Genefer rushed from the room, and Saul, looking white about the
lips, but with a blaze in his eyes which made all who met him shrink
away from him, put together the few things he had at the farm besides
his books, and stalked away into Pentreath, where he found an audience
as ready to listen to him as he was to address them.
And this is how it came about that St. Bride was set in a ferment of
excitement by the news that there were exciting scenes going on at
Pentreath--mysterious outbreaks of popular fury--machines broken in the
mills--a statue of the old king standing in the market-place, found
in the river-bed one morning greatly shattered by the fall--a baker’s
shop looted in broad daylight another day; and over all a sense that
there was more to come, and that this was but the beginning of what
might grow to rival one of the great risings of the Midlands and the
North, when private houses had been broken into, and an untold amount
of damage inflicted upon rich men, who had drawn upon themselves the
popular hatred.
Now St. Bride, as represented by the fishermen, had no wish to be left
out of any enterprise which promised either excitement or reward. It
was whispered in all quarters that Saul was at the head of the rioters,
and that his was the master-mind there. If so, they would be certain of
a welcome from him if they joined his little band; and so it came about
that, whilst the boats still lay high and dry upon the beach, the men
of the place were almost all mysteriously missing, and their womenfolk
professed absolute ignorance as to what had taken them off.
“Oh, Mr. St. Aubyn,” said Bride, with tears in her eyes, as she
encountered the clergyman of St. Erme on the downs, bent in the same
direction as herself, to the cottage where a sick woman was lying, “do
you think it is true what they are all saying, that Abner’s grandson
is gathering together a band of desperate men, and intends to try
and provoke a general rising, and to march all through the district,
breaking machines and robbing and plundering? It seems too dreadful to
think of; but wherever I go I hear the same tale. Do you believe that
it is true?”
“I trust that you have heard an exaggerated account of what is passing,
Lady Bride,” he said; “though I fear that there are troublous days
before us; but I think we are prepared for that, and can look without
over-much dismay around. Remember, my child, that when we see the
beginning of these things coming to pass, we are to lift up our heads,
because our redemption draweth nigh. In that is our safeguard and our
hope.”
The light flashed into Bride’s eyes.
“Ah! thank you for reminding me. It is so hard to keep it always in
mind; but indeed it is like the beginning--men’s heart’s failing them
for fear, and for looking after those things that are coming on the
earth. Mr. St. Aubyn, tell me, _are_ the people altogether wrong in
demanding redress of those grievances which lie so heavy upon them? Is
it right that they should have so little, so very little voice in the
government of the nation, when we call this a free and a constitutional
form of government? Need we condemn them altogether for doing what
their ignorance and misery drive them to do? Are we not also to blame
in that they are so miserable and ignorant?”
“In very truth we are, Lady Bride----”
“Ah! no; not _Lady_ Bride to you, when we are alone like this,” she
pleaded. “It never used to be so. Let it be Bride again, as though I
were a child. Ah! would that I were, and that _she_ were with me! Oh,
it is all so dark and perplexing now!”
“It is, my child, it is, even for the best and wisest on the earth. Let
us take comfort in the thought that it is light with God, and that He
sees the working out of His eternal purposes, even where most let and
hindered by the sin and opposition of man. A time of darkness is upon
us--that none can deny--not in this land alone, but in all the lands
of Christendom; and you are right in your feeling that it is not the
ignorant masses who are alone in fault. We--the Church--the nobility,
the great ones of the earth, have failed again and again in our duties
towards those below them, and now they have to suffer. Two wrongs do
not make one right, and the method in which the ignorant seem like to
set to work is not only foolish, but sinful also; and in our sense of
sympathy for the people and our self-reprobation, we must not palliate,
even though we may partially understand the cause of the sin. It is
right that the people should be thought of and rightly done by. God has
taught us that again and again; but it is not the ordinance of God that
the people should govern--and yet, if I read my Bible and interpret
aright, that is what we shall come to in the days of the end; it will
no longer be the voice of God, nor yet the voice of the king which will
prevail, but the voice of the people; and we shall again hear in newer
and more subtle forms that word of blasphemy which tells us that the
voice of the people is the voice of God.”
“Ah! do you think so? That is what I have heard said; but surely it
will take long, very long, to accomplish?”
“Perhaps; I know not. In France it was accomplished in a few terrible
years. Methinks in this land, where God has been so gracious times
and again, it may be differently done and with less of terror and
bloodshed; but the end will assuredly be the same. One can see, even
from a worldly aspect, how it will be accomplished. Men say, and with
justice and truth, that there should be in the community, for the good
of all, a fair class representation--that is, that each class should
have such a voice in the discussion of the affairs of the nation as
will secure for that class the meed of justice and consideration to
which its position entitles it. At present this is not so. The rising
and important middle class have almost no representation, and the
labouring and artisan class none. Yet they have a stake in the country,
and are entitled to a voice.”
“That is what Eustace says, and it sounds right.”
“It is right, according to my ideas of justice, and will be gradually
accomplished, as you know, by extension of franchise and so forth. We
need not discuss that theme now. What I mean to point out to you is
the danger that threatens us in the future. From claiming a fair class
representation as the basis of sound government, the next step will be
the theory that every man--or at least every householder--should have
a vote, and most plausible reasons will be given for this. Probably in
time it will be carried into law, and then you will see at once an end
of class representation as well as of fair constitutional government.
The power will no longer be balanced. It will all be thrown into the
hands of one class, and that the most numerous but the least educated,
the least thoughtful, the least capable of clear and sound judgment,
because their very conditions of life preclude them from study and the
acquisition of the needful knowledge requisite for sound government.
The power will be vested in the class the most easily led or driven by
unprincipled men, by the class with the least stake in the country,
and the least power of seeing the true bearing of a measure which may
be very plausible, but absolutely unsound. It may take the people very
long to find their power, and perhaps longer still to dare to use it;
but in time both these things will be achieved, and then the greatness
of England will be at an end; and, as I think, the state of misery and
confusion which will ensue will be far, far greater than what she has
endured beneath the sway of her so-called tyrants and oppressors.”
Bride heaved a long sigh.
“Eustace would not think that,” she remarked softly.
“No, nor many great men of the day; and time has yet to show whether
they are right, or an old parish priest who has been buried alive
all his days and knows nothing, as they would argue, of the signs of
the times;” and here Mr. St. Aubyn smiled slightly. “Well, well, God
knows, and in His good time we shall know. For the present that must
content us. Let us not be in haste to condemn. Let us be patient, and
full of faith and hope. He has always pointed out a way of escape for
His faithful servants and followers before things become too terrible
for endurance. Our hope no man can take from us. Let us live in its
heavenly light, and then shall we not be confounded at the swelling
of the waters and the raging of the flood--those great waters of the
latter days--supporting the beast and his scarlet rider, which are
peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues, the power of a great
and lawless democracy.”
Bride looked awed and grave, yet full of confidence and hope; but the
conversation was brought to a close by their arrival at the cottage
whither both were bound.
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