CHAPTER XXIX

MATERNAL ELOQUENCE

Sufficient for the day is the evil thereof; and more than sufficient

with most of us. Mr. Twemlow and his wife resolved discreetly, after a

fireside council, to have nothing to say to Carne Castle, or about it,

save what might be forced out of them. They perceived most clearly, and

very deeply felt, how exceedingly wrong it is for anybody to transgress,

or even go aside of, the laws of his country, as by Statute settled.

Still, if his ruin had been chiefly legal; if he had been brought up

under different laws, and in places where they made those things which

he desired to deal in; if it was clear that those things were good, and

their benefit might be extended to persons who otherwise could have no

taste of them; above all, if it were the first and best desire of all

who heard of it to have their own fingers in the pie--then let others

stop it, who by duty and interest were so minded; the Rector was not in

the Commission of the Peace--though he ought to have been there years

ago--and the breach of the law, if it came to that, was outside of his

parish boundary. The voice of the neighbourhood would be with him, for

not turning against his own nephew, even if it ever should come to be

known that he had reason for suspicions.

It is hard to see things in their proper light, if only one eye has a

fly in it; but if both are in that sad condition, who shall be blamed

for winking? Not only the pastor, but all his flock, were in need of

wire spectacles now, to keep their vision clear and their foreheads

calm. Thicker than flies around the milk-pail, rumours came flitting

daily; and even the night--that fair time of thinking--was busy with

buzzing multitude.

“Long time have I lived, and a sight have I seed,” said Zebedee Tugwell

to his wife, “of things as I couldn't make no head nor tail of; but

nothing to my knowledge ever coom nigh the sort of way our folk has

taken to go on. Parson Twemlow told us, when the war began again, that

the Lord could turn us all into Frenchmen, if we sinned against Him

more than He could bear. I were fool enough to laugh about it then,

not intaking how it could be on this side of Kingdom Come, where no

distinction is of persons. But now, there it is--a thing the Almighty

hath in hand; and who shall say Him nay, when He layeth His hand to it?”

“I reckon, 'a hath begun with you too, Zeb,” Mrs. Tugwell would answer,

undesirably. “To be always going on so about trash trifles, as a woman

hath a right to fly up at, but no man! Surely Dan hath a right to his

politics and his parables, as much as any lame old chap that sitteth on

a bench. He works hard all day, and he airns his money; and any man hath

a right to wag his tongue of night-time, when his arms and his legs have

been wagging all day.”

“Depends upon how he wags 'un.” The glance of old Tugwell was stern, as

he spoke, and his eyebrows knitted over it. “If for a yarn, to plaise

children or maidens, or a bit of argyment about his business, or talk

about his neighbours, or aught that consarns him--why, lads must be

fools, and I can smoke my pipe and think that at his age I was like him.

But when it comes to talking of his betters, and the Government, and

the right of everybody to command the ship, and the soup--soup, what was

it?”

“Superior position of the working classes, dignity of labour,

undefeasible rights of mankind to the soil as they was born in, and

soshallistick--something.”

“So--shall--I--stick equality,” Mr. Tugwell amended, triumphantly; “and

so shall I stick him, by the holy poker, afore the end of the week is

out. I've a-been fool enough to leave off ropesending of him now for a

matter of two years, because 'a was good, and outgrowing of it like, and

because you always coom between us. But mind you, mother, I'll have none

of that, next time. Business I means, and good measure it shall be.”

“Zeb Tugwell,” said his wife, longing greatly to defy him, but

frightened by the steadfast gaze she met, “you can never mean to say

that you would lay your hand on Dan--a grown man, a'most as big as

yourself, and a good half-head taller! Suppose he was to hit you back

again!”

“If he did, I should just kill him,” Zeb answered, calmly. “He would

be but a jellyfish in my two hands. But there, I'll not talk about it,

mother. No need to trouble you with it. 'Tis none of my seeking--the

Lord in heaven knows--but a job as He hath dutified for me to do. I'll

go out, and have my pipe, and dwell on it.”

“And I may lay a deal of it on myself,” Mrs. Tugwell began to moan, as

soon as he was gone; “for I have cockered Dan up, and there's no denying

it, afore Tim, or Tryphena, or Tabby, or Debby, or even little Solomon.

Because he were the first, and so like his dear father, afore he got

on in the world so. Oh, it all comes of that, all the troubles comes of

that, and of laying up of money, apart from your wife, and forgetting

almost of her Christian name! And the very same thing of it--money,

money, and the getting on with breeches that requireth no mending, and

the looking over Church-books at gay young ladies--all of it leadeth

to the same bad end of his betters, and the Government, and the

Soshallistick Quality.

“Why, with all these mercies,” continued Mrs. Tugwell, though not in a

continuous frame of mind, as Daniel came in, with a slow heavy step, and

sat down by the fire in silence, “all these mercies, as are bought and

paid for, from one and sixpence up to three half-crowns, and gives no

more trouble beyond dusting once a week--how any one can lay his eyes

on other people's property, without consideration of his own, as will be

after his poor mother's time, is to me quite a puzzle and a pin-prick.

Not as if they was owing for, or bought at auction, or so much as beaten

down by sixpence, but all at full price and own judgment, paid for by

airnings of labour and perils of the deep. And as Widow Shanks said, the

last time she was here, by spoiling of the enemies of England, who makes

us pay tremenjious for 'most everything we lives on. And I know who

would understand them crackeries, and dust them when I be gone to

dust, and see her own pretty face in them, whenever they has the

back-varnish.”

Dan knew that the future fair owner and duster designed by his mother

was Miss Cheeseman, towards whom he had cherished tender yearnings in

the sensible and wholesome days. And if Polly Cheeseman had hung herself

on high--which she might have done without a bit of arrogance--perhaps

she would still have been to this young man the star of fate and glory,

instead of a dip, thirty-two to the pound; the like whereof she sold

for a farthing. Distance makes the difference. “He that won't allow heed

shall pay dear in his need;” the good mother grew warm, as the son began

to whistle; “and to my mind, Master Dan, it won't be long afore you have

homer things to think of than politics. 'Politics is fiddle-sticks' was

what men of my age used to say; sensible men with a house and freehold,

and a pig of their own, and experience. And such a man I might have had,

and sensible children by him, children as never would have whistled at

their mother, if it hadn't been for your poor father, Dan. Misguided he

may be, and too much of his own way, and not well enough in his own mind

to take in a woman's--but for all that he hath a right to be honoured by

his children, and to lead their minds in matters touching of the King,

and Church, and true religion. Why only last night, no, the night afore

last, I met Mrs. Prater, and I said to her--”

“You told me all that, mother; and it must have been a week ago; for I

have heard it every night this week. What is it you desire that I should

do, or say, or think?”

“Holy mercy!” cried Mrs. Tugwell, “what a way to put things, Dan! All

I desire is for your good only, and so leading on to the comfort of the

rest. For the whole place goes wrong, and the cat sits in the corner,

when you go on with politics as your dear father grunts at. No doubt it

may all be very fine and just, and worth a man giving his life for, if

he don't care about it, nor nobody else--but even if it was to keep the

French out, and yourn goeth nearer to letting them in, what difference

of a button would it make to us, Dan, compared to our sticking together,

and feeding with a knowledge and a yielding to the fancies of each

other?”

“I am sure it's no fault of mine,” said Daniel, moved from his high

ropes by this last appeal; “to me it never matters twopence what I have

for dinner, and you saw me give Tim all the brown of the baked potatoes

the very last time I had my dinner here. But what comes above all those

little bothers is the necessity for insisting upon freedom of opinion. I

don't pretend to be so old as my father, nor to know so much as he knows

about the world in general. But I have read a great deal more than he

has, of course, because he takes a long time to get a book with the

right end to him; and I have thought, without knowing it, about what I

have read, and I have heard very clever men (who could have no desire

to go wrong, but quite the other way) carrying on about these high

subjects, beyond me, but full of plain language. And I won't be forced

out of a word of it by fear.”

“But for love of your mother you might keep it under, and think it all

inside you, without bringing of it out, in the presence of your elders.

You know what your father is--a man as never yet laid his tongue to a

thing without doing of it--right or wrong, right or wrong; and this time

he hath right, and the law, and the Lord, and the King himself, to the

side of him. And a rope's-end in his pocket, Dan, as I tried to steal

away, but he were too wide-awake. Such a big hard one you never did

see!”

“A rope's end for me, well turned twenty years of age!” cried Daniel,

with a laugh, but not a merry one; “two can play at that game, mother.

I'll not be ropes ended by nobody.”

“Then you'll be rope-noosed;” the poor mother fell into the settle, away

from the fire-light, and put both hands over her eyes, to shut out the

spectacle of Dan dangling; “or else your father will be, for you. Ever

since the Romans, Dan, there have been Tugwells, and respected ten times

more than they was. Oh do 'e, do 'e think; and not bring us all to the

grave, and then the gallows! Why I can mind the time, no more agone than

last Sunday, when you used to lie here in the hollow of my arm, without

a stitch of clothes on, and kind people was tempted to smack you in

pleasure, because you did stick out so prettily. For a better-formed

baby there never was seen, nor a finer-tempered one, when he had his

way. And the many nights I walked the floor with you, Dan, when your

first tooth was coming through, the size of a horse-radish, and your

father most wonderful to put up with my coo to you, when he had not had

a night in bed for nigh three weeks--oh, Dan, do 'e think of things as

consarneth your homer life, and things as is above all reason; and let

they blessed politics go home to them as trades in them.”

Mrs. Tugwell's tender recollections had given her a pain in the part

where Dan was nursed, and driven her out of true logical course; but she

came back to it, before Dan had time to finish the interesting pictures

of himself which she had suggested.

“Now can you deny a word of that, Dan? And if not, what is there more to

say? You was smacked as a little babe, by many people kindly, when ever

so much tenderer than you now can claim to be. And in those days you

never could have deserved it yet, not having framed a word beyond 'Mam,'

and 'Da,' and both of those made much of, because doubtful. There was

nothing about the Constitooshun then, but the colour of the tongue and

the condition of the bowels; and if any fool had asked you what politics

was, you would have sucked your thumb, and offered them to suck it; for

generous you always was, and just came after. And what cry have bigger

folk, grown upright and wicked, to make about being smacked, when they

deserve it, for meddling with matters outside of their business, by

those in authority over them?”

“Well, mother, I daresay you are right, though I don't altogether see

the lines of it. But one thing I will promise you--whatever father does

to me, I will not lift a hand against him. But I must be off. I am late

already.”

“Where to, Dan? Where to? I always used to know, even if you was going

courting. Go a-courting, Dan, as much as ever you like, only don't make

no promises. But whatever you do, keep away from that bad, wicked, Free

and Frisky Club, my dear.”

“Mother, that's the very place I am just bound to. After all you have

said, I would have stayed away to-night, except for being on the list,

and pledged in honour to twenty-eight questions, all bearing upon the

grand issues of the age.”

“I don't know no more than the dead, what that means, Dan. But I know

what your father has got in his pocket for you. And he said the next

time you went there, you should have it.”

Springhaven: A Tale of the Great War · 第 29 / 66 章