"When lawless mobs insult the court,
That man shall be my toast,
If breaking windows be the sport,
Who bravely breaks the most."
_Cowper_.
Captain Carbonel had made his farming answer better than his friends, or
still more the farmers, had predicted. He had gone to the markets and
talked with the farmers, and not shown off any airs, though, as they
said, he was a gentleman, so known by his honest, straightforward
dealing. Nor had he been tempted to launch out into experiments and
improvements beyond what he could properly afford, though he kept
everything in good order, and used new methods according to the soil of
his farm.
Master Pucklechurch growled at first, and foretold that nothing would
come of "thicken a'"; that the "mangled weazel," as he called the mangel
wurzel, would not grow; and that the cows would never eat "that there
red clover as they calls apollyon;" but when the mangel swelled into
splendid crimson root and the cows throve upon the bright fields of
trifolium, he was as proud as any one, and he showed off the sleek sides
of the kine, and the big mis-shapen roots of the beet with the utmost
satisfaction.
Equal grumbling heralded the introduction of a threshing-machine, which
Captain Carbonel purchased after long consideration. The beat of the
flail on barn floors was a regular winter sound at Uphill, as in all the
country round, but to get all the corn threshed and winnowed by a
curious revolving fan with four canvas sails, was a troublesome affair,
making farmers behindhand in coming to the market. And as soon as he
could afford the venture the Captain obtained a machine to be worked by
horse-power, for steam had hardly been brought as yet into use even for
sea traffic, and the first railway was only opened late in 1830, the
time of the accession of William the Fourth.
The farm people, with old Pucklechurch at their head, looked at the
operations of the machine with some distrust, but this gradually became
wonder and admiration on the part of the Greenhow labourers, for
threshing with the flail was very hard work for the shoulders and back,
and Captain Carbonel took care to find employment for the men in winter
time, so that his men did not join in the complaint of Barton and Morris
that there wouldn't be nothing for a poor chap to get his bread by in
the winter. In truth, the machine and its work were a perfect show to
the neighbourhood for the first harvest or two, when Seddon was to be
seen sitting aloft enthroned over a mist of dust, driving the horse that
went round and round, turning the flails that beat out corn from the
ears in the sheaves, with which Pucklechurch and Truman fed the
interior.
All Greenhow was proud of its "Mr Machy," as the little Mary called it,
thinking perhaps that it was a wonderful live creature.
The neighbourhood remained quiet even when George the Fourth died, and
there was much hope and rejoicing over the accession of his brother, who
was reported to be the friend of the people, and to mean to make changes
in their favour. Poor old George Hewlett was, however, much exercised
on the first Sunday, when, in the prayers for the king, Mr Harford
inadvertently said George instead of _William_, and George Hewlett, the
clerk, held it to be praying for the dead, which he supposed to be an
act forbidden.
There was, of course, an election for the new parliament, but it did not
greatly affect Uphill, as nobody had any votes, except Captain Carbonel,
the farmers, and the landlord of the "Fox and Hounds," and the place was
too far from Minsterham for any one to share in the election news,
except Dan Hewlett and Joe Todd, who tramped over thither to hear the
speeches, swell the riotous multitude, and partake of all the beer to
which both sides freely treated all comers. They came home full of
news, and reported in the bar of the "Fox and Hounds" that there were to
be grand doings in this new parliament; the people wasn't going to stand
it no longer, not if the right gentlemen got in; but there would be an
end of they machines, as made horses do men's work, and take the bread
from their poor children. Beer would be ever so much cheaper, and every
poor man would have a fat pig in his sty. That is, if Mr Bramdean, as
was the people's friend, got in.
"Why, he was the one as our Captain Gobbleall was agin," observed Cox,
who had come in to hear the news.
"To be sure he was; Gobbleall is hand and glove with all the tyrums.
Ha'n't he got a machine?" said Dan, in an oracular manner.
"No one will never tell me as how our captain ain't a friend o' the
people," returned Seddon. "Don't he get coals reasonable for us, and
didn't he head the petition for your pig, Jim, and draw it up, too?"
"Ay, but what right had he to say my missus shouldn't take it out of the
parish?" said Jim Parsons. "We'd a made a couple of pounds more, if
she'd been free to go her rounds, as Betty Blake did."
"Ay, that's the way of 'em. They grudges us everything what they don't
give themselves," said Dan, "and little of that, too."
No one understood the spirit which desired to make people independent,
and raise them above indiscriminate beggary, and Todd said, with a grim
laugh, "They would not see us make a little purse for ourselves, not if
they can help it."
Seddon feebly said the ladies was free enough with their gifts. "They
had never had no one before to help the women folk and the children."
"Pig's wash! Much good may it do 'em," said Dan, so contemptuously that
Seddon durst not utter another word in the general laugh, though he
carried home a little can of milk every day, and he and others well knew
the store that their wives set by the assistance of their little ones.
They knew it well enough, though they were afraid to maintain the cause
of the Gobblealls before such an orator as Dan; and nothing worse than
these grumblings took place all harvest time, where the whole families
were fully employed, the men each taking a portion of the field, while
their wives and children aided in the reaping and binding, and earned
sums amongst them which would pay the quarter's rent, buy the pig, and
provide huge boots for the father, if for no others of the family. The
farmers provided substantial luncheons and suppers for the toilers in
the field; and, when all was over, and the last load carried, amid
joyful shouts, there was a great harvest supper at each farm, where
songs were sung, dances were danced, and there was often a most
unlimited quantity of beer swallowed.
No one had then thought of harvest thanksgivings; but at Greenhow there
was as usual the farm supper, but with only ale enough for good and not
for harm; the ladies came to hear the songs in the great farm kitchen,
and the party had to break up at nine o'clock. The women, especially
Mrs Mole, were glad; but the men, even the steady ones, did not like
having only half an evening of it, and "such a mean sup of beer." It
really was excellent strong beer--far better than the farmers' brew--but
that did not matter to the discontented, who, instead of letting
themselves be taken home by their wives, adjourned to the "Fox and
Hounds," and there sat over their pint cups, replenished from time to
time, while they discussed the captain's meanness, and listened to a
dirty old newspaper, which told of the doings of Jack Swing, who was
going about in Wiltshire, raising mobs, threatening farmers and squires,
and destroying machines. There was much excitement among the gentry
about Reform, but apparently the poor cared not about it.
To the Uphill mind, Wiltshire was as strange and distant a country as
Australia, and this made little impression, so that, as the days went
on, everybody went to their usual work, and there was no alarm.
"Oh no," said Mrs Carbonel, "the people here have far too much good
sense to want to molest their best friends. They quite admire our
threshing-machine; and see what a saving of labour it is!"
However, it was thought right to raise a body of yeomanry for the
defence of the country, in case the disaffection should become more
serious, and the assistance of Captain Carbonel at the county town was
urgently requested to organise the members of it. He left home for a
few days without the least anxiety. And Mr Harford, too, went on the
Monday to attend a college meeting at Oxford, and would not return till
he had visited his patient lady-love. The Selbys were away, spending
the autumn at Cheltenham.