XIII
THE VERMUYDEN DINNER
Vaughan began to think more soberly of his position when he foundhimself set down at the table. He had White, who took one end, on hisright; and the Sergeant was opposite him. At the other end theAlderman presided, supported by Mr. Cooke and the Rector.
The young man looked down the board, at the vast tureens that smokedon it, and at the faces, smug or jolly, hungry or expectant, thatsurrounded them; and amid the flood of talk which burst forth themoment his reverence had said a short grace, he began to feel thesituation uncomfortable. True, he had a sort of right to be there, asthe heir, and a Vermuyden. True, too, he owed nothing to anyone there;nothing to the Sergeant, whom he secretly disliked, nothing to Mr.Cooke, whom he despised--in his heart he was as exclusive as SirRobert himself--nothing to White, who would one day be his paiddependant. He owed them no explanation. Why then should he exposehimself to their anger and surprise? He would be silent and speak onlywhen the time came, and he could state his views to Sir Robert with afair chance of a fair hearing.
Still he saw that the position in which he had placed himself was afalse one: and might become ridiculous. And it crossed his mind tofeign illness and to go out and incontinently walk over to Stapyltonand see Sir Robert. Or he might tell White quietly that he did notfind himself able to support his cousin's nominations: and before thenews got abroad he might withdraw and let them think what they would.But he was too proud to do the one, and in too sulky a mood to do theother. And he sat still.
"Where is Sir Robert?" he asked.
"He left home on a sudden call, this morning, sir," White explained;wondering what made the young squire--who was wont to be affable--sodistant. "On unexpected business."
"It must have been important as well as unexpected," Wathen said, witha smile, "to take Sir Robert away today, Mr. White."
"It was both, sir, as I understood," White answered, "for Sir Robertdid not make me acquainted with it. He seemed somewhat put out--moreput out than I have often seen him. But he said that whatever happenedhe would be back before the nomination." And then, turning to Vaughan,"You must have passed him, sir?" he added.
"Well, now I think of it," Vaughan answered, his spoon suspended, "Idid. I met a travelling carriage and four with jackets like his. But,I thought it was empty."
"No, sir, that was Sir Robert. He will not be best pleased," Whitecontinued, turning to the Sergeant, "when he hears what a reception wehad!"
"Ah, well, ah, well!" the Sergeant replied--pleasantness was his cueto-day. "Things are worse in Bath I'll be sworn, Mr. White."
"No doubt, sir, no doubt! I think," White added, forgetting his studyof Cobbett, "the nation has gone mad."
After that Vaughan's other neighbour, Squire Rowley, who met himannually at Stapylton, claimed his ear. The old fellow, hearty andgood-natured, but a bigoted Tory, who would have given Orator Huntfour dozen and thought Lord Grey's proper reward a block on TowerHill, was the last person whom Vaughan would have chosen for aconfidant; since only to hear of a Vermuyden turned Whig would havegone near to giving him a fit. Perforce, nevertheless, Vaughan had tolisten to him and answer him; he could not without rudeness cut himshort. But all the time as they talked, Vaughan's uneasinessincreased. With every minute his eyes wandered more longingly to thedoor. Improved in temper by the fare and by the politeness of hisneighbours, he began to see that he had been foolish to thrust himselfamong people with whom he did not agree. Still he was there; and hemust see the dinner to an end. After all a little more or a littleless would not add to Sir Robert's anger. He could explain that hethought it more delicate to avoid an open scandal.
Meanwhile the collision with the crowd had loosened the guests'tongues and never had a Vermuyden dinner gone more freely. Even the"Cripples," whose wont it was to begin the evening with odiousobsequiousness and close it with a freedom as unpleasant, found speechearly, and were loudest in denunciation of a Bill which threatened todeprive them of their annuities. By the time huge joints had taken theplace of the tureens, and bowls of potatoes and mounds of asparagusdotted the table, the noise was incessant. There was claret for thosewho cared for it, and strong ale for all. And while some discussed theeffect which a Bill that disfranchised Chippinge would have on theirpockets and interests, others driving their arguments home with blowson the table recalled, almost with tears, the sacred name of Pitt--thepilot who weathered the storm; or held up to execration a cabinet ofWhigs dead to every Whig principle, and alive only to the chance ofpower which a revolution might afford.
"But what was to be expected? What was to be expected?" old Rowleyinsisted. "We've only ourselves to thank! When Peel and the Duke tookup the Catholic Claims they stepped into the Whigs' shoes--anddevilishly may they pinch them! The Whigs had to find another pair,you see, sir, and stepped into the Radicals'! And the only people leftat a loss are the honest part of us; who are likely to end not onlybarefoot but barebacked! Ay, by G--d, we are!"
And so on, and so on; even White, who was vastly relieved by Vaughan'sarrival, which made his majority safe, talked freely, and gave Dyasand Pillinger of the Blue Duck the rough side of his tongue. WhileVaughan, used to a freer atmosphere, listened to their one-sidedarguments, their trite prophecies, their incredible prejudices--suchthey seemed to him--and now turned up his nose, now pitied them, as aneffete, a doomed, a dying race.
While he thought of this the dinner wore on, the joints vanished, andhuge steaming puddings made their appearance on the board; those whocared not for plum puddings could have marrow-puddings. Then cheeseand spring onions, and some special old ale, light coloured, heady,and served in tall, spare glasses, went round. At length the rector, atrifle flushed, rose to say grace, and Vaughan saw that the cloth wasabout to be removed. Bottles of strong port and tawny Madeira were athand. Some called already for their favourite punch, or for hot grog.
"Now," he thought, "I can escape with a good grace. And I will!"
But as he made a movement to rise, the Sergeant rose opposite him,lifted his glass, and fixed him with his eye. And Vaughan felt that hecould not leave at that moment without rudeness. "Gentlemen, on yourfeet, if you please," he cried blandly. "The King! The King, God blesshim! The King, gentlemen, and may he never suffer for the faults ofhis servants! May the Grey mare never run away with him. May Williamthe Good ne'er be ruined by a--bad Bill! Gentlemen, the King, Godbless him, and deliver him from the Whigs!"
They drank the toast amid a roar of laughter and applause. And oncemore as they sat down Vaughan thought that he would escape. Again hewas hindered. This time the interruption came from behind.
"Hallo, Vaughan!" someone muttered in his ear. "You're the last personI expected to see here!"
He turned and disgust filled him. The speaker, who had just entered,was the son of a clergyman in the neighbourhood and had gone to thebar. He was a shifty, flattering fellow, at once a toady and abackbiter; who had wormed himself into society too good for him, andin London was Vaughan's _bete noir_. But had that been all! Alas, hewas also a member of the Academic. He had been present at Vaughan'striumph ten days before, and had heard him proclaim himself a Reformerof the Reformers.
For a moment Vaughan could find not a word. He could only mutter "Oh!"in a tone of dismay. He feared that his face betrayed the chagrin hefelt.
"I thought you were quite the other way?" Mowatt said. And he grinned.He was a weedy, pale young man, with thin lips and a false smile.
Vaughan hesitated. "So I am!" he said curtly.
"But--but I thought----"
"Order! Order!" cried the Alderman, a trifle uplifted by wine and hisposition. "Silence, if you please, gentlemen, for the SeniorCandidate! And charge your glasses!"
Vaughan turned to the table, a frown on his brow. Wathen was on hisfeet, holding his wine glass before his breast with one hand, whilethe other rested on the table. His attitude was that of a manconfident of his powers and pleased to exert them. Neverthele
ss, as heprepared to speak, he lowered his eyes to the table as if he thoughtthat a little mock-modesty became him.
"Gentlemen," he said, "it is my privilege to propose a toast, that atthis time and in this place--this time, gentlemen, when to an extentunknown within living memory, all is at stake, and this place whichhas so much to lose--it is my privilege, I say, to propose a toastthat must go straight to the heart of every man in this room, nay, ofevery true-born Englishman, and every lover of his country! It is _OurAncient Constitution, our Chartered Rights, our Vested Interests!_[Loud and continued applause.] Yes, gentlemen, our ancientConstitution, the security of every man, woman, and child in thisrealm! And coupled with it our Chartered Rights, our Vested Interests,which, unassailed for generations, are to-day called in question bythe weakness of many, by the madness of some, by the wicked ambitionof a few. [Loud cheering]. Gentlemen, to one Cromwell this town owesthe destruction of your famous Abbey, once the pride of this county!To another Cromwell it owes the destruction of the walls that introublous times secured the hearths of your forefathers! It lies withus--but we must be instant and diligent--it lies with us, I say, tosee that those civil bulwarks which protect us and ours in theenjoyment of all we have and all we hope for----"
"In this world!" the Rector murmured in a deep bass voice.
"In this world," the Sergeant continued, accepting the amendment witha complimentary bow, "are not laid low by a third Cromwell! I care notwhether he mask himself under the name of Grey, or of Russell, or ofBrougham, or of Lansdowne!"
He paused amid such a roar of applause as shook the room.
"For think not"--the Sergeant resumed when it died down--"think not,gentlemen, whatever the easily led vulgar may think, that sacrilegioushands can be laid on the Ark of the Constitution without injury tomany other interests; without the shock being felt through all thevarious members of the State down to the lowest: without endangeringall those multiform rights and privileges for which the Constitutionis our guarantee! Let the advocates of this pernicious, thisrevolutionary Bill say what they will, they cannot deny that itseffect will be to deprive you in Chippinge who, for nearly fivecenturies, have enjoyed the privilege of returning members toParliament--of that privilege, with all"--here he glanced at the richarray of bottles that covered the board--"the amenities which itbrings with it! And for whose benefit? For that of men no betterqualified--nay, by practice and heredity less qualified--thanyourselves. But, gentlemen, mark me, that is not all! That is but thebeginning, and it may be the least part. That loss they cannot hidefrom you. That loss they do not attempt to hide from you. But they dohide from you," he continued in his deepest and most tragic tone, "afact to which the whole course of history is witness--that a policy ofrobbery once begun is rarely stayed, if it be stayed, until the victimis bare! Bare, gentlemen! Gentlemen, the freemen of this borough haveof ancient right, conferred by an ancient sovereign----"
"God bless him!" from Annibal, now somewhat drunk. "God bless him!Here's his health!"
The Sergeant paused an instant and looked round the table. Then moreslowly, "Ay, God bless him!" he said. "God bless King Canute! Butwhat--what if those grants of land---I care not whether you call themchartered rights or vested interests--which you freemen enjoy ofhim--what if they do not enure? You have them," with a penetratingglance from face to face, "but for how long, gentlemen, if this Billpass? You are too clear-sighted to be blind to the peril! Too shrewdto think that you can part with one right, as old, as well vested, asperfectly secured--and keep the others undiminished? Gentlemen, if youare so blind, take warning! For wherever this anarchical, thisdangerous, this revolutionary Bill----"
"Hear! Hear! Hear!" from Vaughan's neighbour, the Squire.
"Wherever, I say, this Bill finds supporters--and I can well believethat in Birmingham and Sheffield, where they have all to gain andnothing to lose, it will find supporters, it should find none inChippinge! Where we have all to lose and nothing to gain, and where noman but a fool or a rogue can in reason support it! Gentlemen, you areneither fools nor rogues----"
"No! No! No! No!"
"No, gentlemen, and therefore, though a few silly fellows may shoutfor the Bill in the streets, I am sure that I shall have the whole ofthis influential company with me when I give you the toast of 'OurAncient Constitution, Our Chartered Rights, Our Vested Interests!' Maythe Bill that assails them be defeated by the good sense of a soberand united people! May those who urge it and those who supportit--rogues where they are not fools, and fools where they are notrogues--meet with the fate they deserve! And may we be there to see!Gentlemen," he continued, raising his hand for silence, "in theabsence upon pressing business of our beloved High Steward, the modelof an English gentleman and the pattern of an English landlord, I begto couple this toast"--here the Sergeant's sharp black eyes fixedthemselves suddenly on his opposite neighbour--"with the name of hiskinsman, Mr. Arthur Vaughan!"
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" The room shook with the volume of applause,the tables trembled. And through it all Arthur Vaughan's heart beathard, and he swallowed nervously. He was caught. Whether the Sergeantknew it or not, he was trapped. From the beginning of the speech hehad had his misgivings. He had listened anxiously; and though he hadlost nothing, though one half of his mind had followed the speaker'sthread, the other half had scanned the prospect feverishly, weighedthe chances of escape, and grown chill with the fear of what wascoming. If he had only withdrawn in time! If he had only----
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!" They were pounding the table with fist andglass, and looking towards him--two long rows of flushed, excited,tipsy faces. Some were drinking to him. Others were scanning himcuriously. All were waiting.
He leant forward. "I don't wish to speak," he said, addressing theSergeant in a troubled voice. "Call on some one else, if you please."
But "Impossible, sir!" White, surprised by his evident nervousness,answered. He had thought Vaughan anything but a shy person."Impossible, sir!"
"Get up! Get up!" cried the Squire, his neighbour, laying a jocundhand on him and trying to lift him to his feet.
But Vaughan resisted; his throat was so dry that he could hardly framehis words. "I don't wish to speak," he muttered. "I don't agree----"
"Say what you like, my dear sir!" the Sergeant rejoined blandly, butwith a gleam of amusement in his eyes. He had had his doubts of MasterVaughan ever since he had caught him on his way to the Chancellor: nowhe thought that he had him pinned. He did not suppose that the youngman would dare to revolt openly.
"Yes, sir, you must get up," said White, who had no suspicion that hishesitation arose from any cause but shyness. "Anything will do."
Vaughan rose--slowly, and with a beating heart. He rose perforce. Fora moment he stood, deafened by his reception. For the smaller men sawin him one of the old family, the future landlord of two-thirds ofthem, the sometime owner of the very roof under which they weregathered. And he, while they greeted his rising and he stood waitingwith an unhappy face for silence, wondered, even at this last moment,what he would say. And Heaven knows what he would have said--so hardwas it to disappoint those cheering men, all looking at him withworship in their eyes--so painful was it to break old ties--if he hadnot caught behind him Mowatt's whisper, "Eat his words! He'll have tounsay----"
No more than that, a fragment, but enough; enough to show him that hehad better, far better seem false to these men, to his blood, to thepast, than be false to himself. He straightened his shoulders, andlifted his head.
"Gentlemen," he said, and now his voice though low was steady, "I riseunwillingly--unwillingly, because I feel too late that I ought not tobe here. That I have no right to be here. [No! No!] No right to behere, for this reason," he continued, raising his hand for silence,"for this reason, that in much of what Sergeant Wathen has said, Icannot go with him."
There, it was out! But no more than a stare of perplexity passed fromthe more intelligent faces about him to the duller faces lower downthe table. They did not understand; it was only clea
r that he couldnot mean what he seemed to mean. But he was going on in a silence socomplete that a pin falling to the floor might have been heard!
"I rise unwillingly, I say again, gentlemen," he continued, "and I begyou to remember this, and that I did not come here of set purpose toflaunt my opinions before you. For I, too"--here he betrayed hissecret agitation--"thus far I do go with Sergeant Wathen,--I, too, amfor Our Ancient Constitution, I give place to no man in love of it.And I, too, am against revolution, I will stand second to none inabhorrence of it."
"Hear! Hear!" cried the Rector in a tone of unmistakable relief."Hear, hear!"
"Ay, go on," chimed in the Squire. "Go on, lad, go on! That's allright!" And half aside in his neighbour's ear, "Gad! he frightenedme!" he muttered.
"But--but to be plain," Vaughan resumed, pronouncing every wordclearly, "I do not regard the Bill which the Sergeant has mentioned,the Bill which is in all your minds, as assailing the one, or as beingtantamount to the other! On the contrary, I believe that it restoresthe ancient balance of the Constitution, and will avert, as nothingelse will avert, a Revolution!"
As he paused on that word, the Squire, who was of a free habit, triedto rise and speak, but choked. The Rector gasped. Only Mr. Cooke foundhis voice. He sprang to his feet, purple in the face. "By G--d!" heroared, "are we going to listen to this?"
Vaughan sat down, pale but composed. But he found all eyes on him, andhe rose again.
"It was against my will I said what I have said," he resumed. "I didnot wish to speak. I do not wish you to listen. I rose only because Iwas forced to rise. But being up, I owed it to myself to say enough toclear myself of--of the appearance of duplicity. That is all."
The Sergeant did not speak, but gazed darkly at him, his mind busywith the effect which this would have on the election. White, too, didnot speak--he sat stricken dumb. The Squire swore, and five or six ofthe more intelligent hissed. But again it was Cooke who found words.
"That all? But that is not all!" he shouted. "That is not all! Whatare you, sir?" For still, in common with most of those at the table,he could not believe that he heard aright. He fancied that this wassome trope, some nice distinction, which he had not followed. "You maybe Sir Robert Vermuyden's cousin ten times over," he continued,vehemently, "but we'll have it clear what we have to expect. Speaklike a man, sir! Say what you mean!"
Vaughan had taken his seat, but he rose again, a gleam of anger in hiseyes. "Have I not spoken plainly?" he said. "I thought I had. If youhave still any doubt, sir, I am for the Constitution, but I think thatit has suffered by the wear and tear of time and needs repair. I thinkthat the shifting of population during the last two centuries, thedecay of one place and the rise of another, call for some change inthe representation! I hold that the spread of education and thecreation of a large and wealthy class unconnected with the land,render that change more urgent if we would avoid a revolution! Ibelieve that the more we enlarge the base upon which our institutionsrest, the more safely, the more steadily, and the longer will theylast!"
They knew now, they understood, and the storm broke. The smaller men,or such of them as were sober, stared. But the greater number burstinto a roar of dissent, of reprobation, of anger, led by the Squire.
"A Whig, by Heaven!" he cried violently. And he thrust his chair asfar as possible from his neighbour. "A Whig, by Heaven! And here!"While others cried, "Renegade!" "Radical!" and "What are you doinghere?" and hissed him. But above all, in some degree stilling all,rose Cooke's crucial question, "Are you for the Bill? Answer me that!"And he extended his hand for silence. "Are you for the Bill?"
"I am," Vaughan answered. The storm steadied him.
"You are?"
"Yes."
"Fool or rogue, then! which are you?" shrieked a voice from the lowerend of the table. "Fool or rogue? Which are you?"
Vaughan turned sharply in the direction of the voice. "That remindsme," he said with a vigour which seemed after a few seconds to gainhim a hearing--for the noise died down--"that reminds me, SergeantWathen is against the Bill. But he has addressed himself solely andonly to your prejudices, gentlemen! I am for the Bill--I am for theBill," he repeated, seeing that their attention was wandering, "I----"
He stopped, silenced and taken aback. For some were on their feet,others were rising; the faces of nine out of ten were turned from him.What was it? He turned to see; and he saw.
A few paces within the door stood Sir Robert himself; his fur collaredtravelling cloak hanging loose about him and showing his tall sparefigure at its best. He stooped, but his high-bred face, cynicallysmiling, was turned full on the speaker; it was certain that he hadheard much, if not all. And Vaughan had been brave indeed, he had beena hero, if taken by surprise and at this disadvantage he had not shownsome discomfiture.
It is easy to smile now! Easy to say that this was but an Englishgentleman, bound like others by the law! And Vaughan's own kinsman!But few would have smiled then. He, through whose hands passed aquarter of the patronage of a county, who dammed or turned the streamof promotion, who had made many there and could unmake them, whosemere hint could have consigned, a few years back, the troublesome tothe press-gang, who belonged almost as definitely, almost asexclusively, to a caste, as do white men in the India of to-day; whoseldom showed himself to the vulgar save in his coach and four, orriding with belted grooms behind him--about such an one in '81 therewas, if no divinity, at least the aegis of real power, that habit whichunquestioned authority confers, that port of Jove to which men bow!Scan the pictured faces of the men who steered this country throughthe long war--the faces of Liverpool and Castlereagh--
_Daring pilots in extremity, Scorning the danger when the waves ran high_;
or of those men, heirs to their traditions, who, for nearly twentyyears, confronted the no less formidable forces of discontent anddisaffection--of Peel and Wellington, Croker and Canning, and he isblind who does not find there the reflection of that firm rule, theshadow of that power which still survived, though maimed and weakenedin the early thirties.
Certainly it was not easy to smile at such men then; at their pride ortheir prejudices, their selfishness or their eccentricity. For behindlay solid power. Small blame to Vaughan therefore, if in the face ofthe servile attitude, the obsequious rising of the company about him,he felt his countenance change, if he could not quite hide his dismay.And though he told himself that his feelings were out of place, thatthe man did but stand in the shoes which would one day be his, and wasbut now what he would be, _vox faucibus haesit_--he was dumb. It wasSir Robert who broke the silence.
"I fear, Mr. Vaughan," he said, the gleam in his eyes alone betrayinghis passion--for he would as soon have walked the country lanes in hisdressing robe as given way to rage in that company--"I fear you aresaying in haste words which you will repent at leisure! Did I heararight that--that you are in favour of the Bill?"
"I am," Vaughan replied a little huskily. "I----"
"Just so, just so!" Sir Robert replied with a certain lightness. Andraising his walking cane he pointed gravely and courteously to thedoor a pace or two from him. "That is the door, Mr. Vaughan," he said."You must be here, I am sure, under an error."
Vaughan coloured painfully. "Sir Robert," he said, "I owe you, Iknow----"
"You will owe me very little by to-morrow evening," Sir Robertrejoined, interrupting him suavely. "Much less than you now think! Butthat is not to the point. Will you--kindly withdraw?"
"I would like at least to say this! That I came here----"
"Will you kindly withdraw?" Sir Robert persisted. "That is all." Andhe pointed again, and still more blandly, to the door. "Anyexplanation you may please to offer--and I do not deny that one may bein place--you can give to my agent to-morrow. He, on his part, willhave something to say. For the present--Annibal," turning with kindlycondescension, "be good enough to open the door for this gentleman.Good-evening, Mr. Vaughan. You will not, I am sure, compel me toremove with my friends to ano
ther room?"
And as he continued to point to the door, and would listen tonothing--and the room was certainly his--Vaughan walked out. AndAnnibal closed the door behind him.
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