During the next few weeks Peter drifted rapidly into being a Tory. He
soon talked himself into a conviction that Marbury must win for national
as well as personal reasons. Moreover, in his encounter with the miners
of the western end of the constituency, he had an opportunity of
measuring the evil effect upon clouded minds of the simple demagogy
practised on the other side. Peter provoked more than one riot by the
contempt with which he challenged the cheap phrases whereby Mr. Jordan's
electioneers were campaigning against squires and men of property. Fresh
from a contemplation of Haversham's quiet heroism and devoted industry,
he was amazed at the success with which English landlords were presented
as conspirators against humanity. He was even more amazed at the
impudent assurance with which their opponents, relying almost entirely
upon popular text-books, raised a whirlwind of prejudice in favour of
replacing men like Haversham by a committee of tradesmen. Arrived from
these hot meetings in the West, Peter would stand beside his window and
look upon a stream of visitors waiting upon Haversham. Already Haversham
was told by the doctors to be ready for the end, and he was now deep in
a last review of the estate.
Only half a dozen people knew that this was a grand inquest and
farewell, but many of the men with whom Haversham spoke realised they
would not see him again. Their affection appeared in a solicitude
clumsily expressed, but Haversham encouraged no sentiment, and with easy
simplicity checked in his visitors any dwelling upon their personal
loss.
Peter especially remembered the last time he sat in the small hut.
Instinctively he avoided the thing that filled his mind. Not a word was
spoken to suggest that Haversham was an invalid. When Peter came to
recall their conversation, he realised that he had talked exclusively of
himself under Haversham's quiet prompting. He still saw the interested
smile, lighting the face of his host--now brilliant with fever and
eloquent with the gesture of his spirit. Long afterwards, Peter
shamefully realised how this man, already in the shadow of death, had,
in perfect sincerity, bent as from the clouds to encourage his young
egoism and to listen.
A few days later, Peter attended a mass meeting of Marbury's opponents.
It was Wenderby's meeting, held in the western corner of the
constituency, in contempt of landowners. Peter knew nothing of Wenderby
beyond his public reputation. He saw in Wenderby only the brass and
swagger which, for political purposes, he chose to affect. Peter was
deceived. Wenderby was a politician of exquisite finesse, playing the
political bruiser partly out of genuine love for his country, partly
from a deeply calculated personal ambition. His speech in this
by-election well illustrated the intricacy of modern politics under
their superficial simplicity. Ostensibly it denounced all Tories and
pleaded for economy in naval expenditure. Actually it was Wenderby's
cover for a set campaign for extorting as much money out of his own
party for the Service as he dared.
Wenderby's position in Marbury's constituency was every way a snare for
the politically innocent. He was a friend of Haversham, and usually a
guest at Highbury. But, as he wrote to Haversham, to stay at Highbury in
the present crisis would perhaps be regarded as a breach of political
decency. Peter, seeing in Wenderby the public enemy of a nobleman whose
hospitality the speaker had himself enjoyed, could not contain his rage.
Wenderby's rhetorical periods were launched with deadly effect at a
simmering audience.
At the close of the meeting, Peter, red with anger, rose to ask whether
certain remarks concerning the landlords of England were intended to
have a personal and local application. Wenderby, seeing he had only to
do with a youngster who had lost his temper, smoothly evaded him. Peter
sprang to his feet:
"Sir--" he began.
Immediately there were shouts of "Order!" and "Turn him out!" Peter
obstinately stood.
"I insist," he shouted, "that my question be answered. An infamous
insinuation----"
At this point Peter was choked by half a dozen dirty hands grabbing from
all quarters at his neck. He was thrust gasping and struggling from the
hall--his coat in ribbons. His battered hat and collar were derisively
thrown after him, as he bitterly explained to the police that he was not
drunk and disorderly.
Peter showed himself that night to Marbury and stormily told his tale.
Marbury, to his mortification, only laughed.
"What is amusing you?" asked Peter, very short and stony.
"Everything."
"For example?"
"I don't know where to begin. First, you were shouting at the wrong man.
Wenderby is the favourite godson of Uncle Eustace. He's the only man we
can trust."
"But he's on the other side."
"In a way he is."
"He will lose you the seat."
"Perhaps. This by-election is only an incident. Wenderby's speech
to-night was one of a series. Unfortunately it happens to lie in our
constituency. Wenderby has to manage his own people."