There is no eternity for nations. Individuals may be punished hereafter;
nations are punished here. In the first years of the Nineteenth Century,
Englishmen were mad on war; and though wise men warned them of the ruin
that stalks after war, no one believed their report. The treasure that
would have now fed the starving population of England, had been spent
in killing Frenchmen. Bad harvests followed the war years, taxation
was increased, wages were lowered and lowered, credit was gone, trade
languished, hunger or scrimping carefulness was in every household.
For the iniquitous Corn Laws of 1815, forbidding the importation of
foreign grain, had raised English wheat to eighty shillings a quarter.
And how were working men to buy bread at such a price? No wonder,
they clamoured for a House of Commons that should represent their
case, and repeal Acts that could only benefit one class, and inflict
ruin and misery on all others.
A feeling therefore of intense anxiety pervaded the country on the
Second of November,--the day on which the King was to open Parliament.
No one could work; every one was waiting for the King's speech. He was
as yet very popular; it was his first message to his people; and they
openly begged him for some word of hope--some expression of sympathy for
Reform. He went in great state to Westminster, and was cheered by the
city as he went. "Will Your Majesty say a word for the poor? God bless
Your Majesty! Stand by Reform!" Such expressions assailed him on every
hand; they were the prayers of a people wronged and suffering, yet
disposed to be patient and loyal, and to seek Reform only to spare
themselves and the country the ruth and ruin of Revolution.
Richmoor House was on the way of the royal procession, and Kate was there
to watch it. A little later, a great company began to assemble in its
rooms; for the Duke had promised to bring, or to send, the earliest news
of the event. There was however an intense restlessness among these
splendidly attired men and women. They could not separate Reform from
Revolution; and the French Revolution was yet red and bloody in their
memories. They still heard the thunder of those famous "Three Days of
July," and there was constantly before their eyes, the heir of forty
kings finding in a British palace an ignominious shelter. Not only was
this the case, but French noblemen, in poverty and exile, were earning
precarious livings all around; and English noblemen and ladies looked
forward with terror to a similar fate, if the Reformers obtained their
desire. Indeed, Sir Robert Inglis had boldly prophesied, "Reform would
sweep the House of Lords clear in ten years."
No wonder then the company waiting in Richmoor House were restless and
anxious. Kate did not permit herself to speak, and Mrs. Atheling had
very prudently remained in her own home. She had told the Squire she
"must say what she thought, if she died for it!" and the Squire had
answered, "To be sure, Maude. That is thy right; only, for goodness'
sake, say it in thy own house!" But though Kate knew she would follow
her mother's example, if she was brought to catechism on the subject,
she did not have much fear of such a result; there were too many older
ladies present, all of them desirous to express the hatreds and hopes
of their class.
Yet it was these emotional, expressional women that Annabel Vyner
naturally joined. She stood among them like a splendid incarnation of
its spirit. She hoped vehemently that "Earl Grey and Lord John Russell
would be beheaded as traitors;" she declared she would "go with
delight to Tower Hill and see the axe fall." She flashed into contempt,
when she spoke of Mr. Brougham. "Botany Bay and hard labour might do
for him; and as for the waiting crowds in the streets, the proper thing
was to shoot them down, like rabid animals." She wondered "the Duke
of Wellington did not do so." These sentiments were vivified by the
passion that blazed in her black eyes and flushed her brown face crimson,
and by the gown of bright yellow Chinese crape which she wore; for it
fluttered and waved with her impetuous movements, and made a kind of
luminous atmosphere around her.
"What a superb creature!" exclaimed Mr. Disraeli to the Hon. Mrs.
Norton. And Mrs. Norton put up her glass and looked at Annabel critically.
"Superb indeed--to look at. Would you like to live with her?"
"It would be exciting."
"More so than your 'Vivian Grey,' which I have just read. It is the
book of the year."
"No, that honour belongs to a little volume of poems by a young man
called Tennyson. Get it; you will read every word it contains."
"I am wedded to my idols,--Byron and Scott and Keble. I am much
interested at present in those 'Imaginary Conversations' which that
queer Mr. Landor has given us. They are worth reading, I assure you."
"But why read them? Listen to the 'Conversations' around us! They are
of Revolution, Civil War, Exile, and the Headsman. Could anything be more
'Imaginary'?"
"Who can tell? Here comes Richmoor. He may be able to prognosticate.
What a murmur of voices! What invisible movement! Can you divine the news
from the messenger's face?"
"He thinks that he brings good news. He may be fatally wrong."
The Duke certainly thought that he brought good news. He was much
excited. He came forward with his hands extended, palms upward.
"The King stands by us!" he cried. "God save the King!"