by John Buchan
CHAPTER X
HOME TRUTHS
I
It is told by a great writer in his generous English that when thefollowers of Diabolus were arraigned before the Recorder and Mayor ofregenerate Mansoul, a certain Mr. Haughty carried himself well to thelast. "He declared," says Bunyan, "that he had carried himself bravely,not considering who was his foe or what was the cause in which he wasengaged. It was enough for him if he fought like a man and came offvictorious." Nevertheless, we are told, he suffered the common doom,being crucified next day at the place of execution. It is the old fateof the freelance, the Hal o' the Wynd who fights for his own hand; forin life's contest the taking of sides is assumed to be a necessity.
Such was Lewis's reflections when he found Wratislaw waiting for him inthe Etterick dogcart when he emerged from a meeting in Gledsmuir. Hehad now enjoyed ten days of it, and he was heartily tired. His throatwas sore with much speaking, his mind was barren with thinking on theunthinkable, and his spirits were dashed with a bitter sense offutility. He had honestly done his best. So far his conscience wasclear; but as he reviewed the past in detail, his best seemed a veryshoddy compromise. It was comfort to see the rugged face of Wratislawagain, though his greeting was tempered by mistrust. The great man hadrefused to speak for him and left him to fight his own battles;moreover, he feared the judgment of the old warrior on his conduct ofthe fight. He was acutely conscious of the joints in his armour, but hehad hoped to have decently cloaked them from others. When he heard thefirst words, "Well, Lewie, my son, you have been making a mess of it,"his heart sank.
"I am sorry," he said. "But how?"
"How? Why, my dear chap, you have no grip. You have let the thing getout of hand. I heard your speech to-night. It was excellent, veryclever, a beautiful piece of work, but worse than useless for yourpurpose. You forget the sort of man you are fighting. Oh, I have beenfollowing the business carefully, and I felt bound to come down to keepyou in order. To begin with, you have left your own supporters in theplace in a nice state of doubt."
"How?"
"Why, because you have given them nothing to catch hold of. Theyexpected the ordinary Conservative confession of faith--a rosy sketch offoreign affairs, and a little gentle Socialism, and the old rhetoricabout Church and State. Instead, they are put off with epigrams andexcellent stories, and a few speculations as to the metaphysical basisof politics. Believe me, Lewie, it is only the very general liking foryour unworthy self which keeps them from going over in a body toStocks." And Wratislaw lit a cigar and puffed furiously.
"Then you would have me deliver the usual insincere platitudes?" saidLewis dismally.
"I would have you do nothing of the kind. I thought you understood mypoint of view. A man like Stocks speaks his platitudes with vehemencebecause he believes in them whole-heartedly. You have also yourplatitudes to get through with, not because you would stake your soul onyour belief in them, but because they are as near as possible theinaccurate popular statement of your views, which is all that yourconstituents would understand, and you pander to the popular cravingbecause it is honest enough in itself and is for you the stepping-stoneto worthier work."
Lewis shook his head dismally.
"I haven't the knack of it. I seem to stand beside myself and jeer allthe while. Besides, it would be opposing complete sincerity with a veryshady substitute. That man Stocks is at least an honest fool. I methim the other day after he had been talking some atrocious nonsense. Iasked him as a joke how he could be such a humbug, and he told me quitehonestly that he believed every word; so, of course, I apologized. Hewas attacking you people on your foreign policy, and he pulled out a NewTestament and said, 'What do I read here?' It went down with manypeople, but the thing took away my breath."
His companion looked perplexedly at the speaker. "You have had thewrong kind of education, Lewie. You have always been the spoiled child,and easily and half-unconsciously you have mastered things which theself-made man has to struggle towards with a painful conscious effort.The result is that you are a highly cultured man without any crudenessor hysteria, while the other people see things in the wrong perspectiveand run their heads against walls and make themselves miserable. Yougain a lot, but you miss one thing. You know nothing of the heart ofthe crowd. Oh, I don't mean the people about Etterick. They are yourown folk, and the whole air of the place is semi-feudal. But theweavers and artisans of the towns and the ordinary farm workers--what doyou know of them? Your precious theories are so much wind in theirears. They want the practical, the blatantly obvious, spiced with alittle emotion. Stocks knows their demands. He began among them, andat present he is but one remove from them. A garbled quotation from theScriptures or an appeal to their domestic affections is the very thingrequired. Moreover, the man understands an audience. He can bully it,you know; put on airs of sham independence to cover his real obeisance;while you are polite and deferent to hide your very obvious scorn."
"Do you know, Tommy, I'm a coward," Lewis broke in. "I can't face thepeople. When I see a crowd of upturned faces, crass, ignorant,unwholesome many of them, I begin to despair. I cannot begin to explainthings from the beginning; besides, they would not understand me if Idid. I feel I have nothing in common with them. They lead, most ofthem, unhealthy indoor lives, their minds are half-baked, and theirbodies half-developed. I feel a terrible pity, but all the same Icannot touch them. And then I become a coward and dare not face themand talk straight as man to man. I repeat my platitudes to the ceiling,and they go away thinking, and thinking rightly, that I am a fool."
Wratislaw looked worried. "That is one of my complaints. The other isthat on certain occasions you cannot hold yourself in check. Do youknow you have been blackguarded in the papers lately, and that there isa violent article against you in the Critic, and all on account of someunwise utterances?"
Lewis flushed deeply. "That is the worst thing I have done, and I feelhorribly penitent. It was the act of a cad and a silly schoolboy. ButI had some provocation, Tommy. I had spoken at length amid manyinterruptions, and I was getting cross. It was at Gledfoot, and themeeting was entirely against me. Then a man got up to tackle me, not anative, but some wretched London agitator. As I looked at him--a littlechap with fiery eyes and receding brow--and heard his cockney patter, mytemper went utterly. I made a fool of him, and I abused the wholeassembly, and, funnily enough, I carried them with me. People say Ihelped my cause immensely."
"It is possible," said Wratislaw dryly. "The Scot has a sense of humourand has no objection to seeing his prophets put to shame. But you aregetting a nice reputation elsewhere. When I read some of your sayings,I laughed of course, but I thought ruefully of your chances."
It was a penitent and desponding man who followed Wratislaw into thesnuggery at Etterick. But light and food, the gleam of silver andvellum and the sweet fragrance of tobacco consoled him; for in mostmatters he was half-hearted, and politics sat lightly on his affections.
II
To Alice the weeks of the contest were filled with dire unpleasantness.Lewis, naturally, kept far from Glenavelin, while of Mr. Stocks she wasnever free. She followed Lady Manorwater's lead and canvassedvigorously, hoping to find distraction in the excitement of the fight.But her efforts did not prosper. On one occasion she found herself in acottage on the Gledsmuir road, her hands filled with electionliterature. A hale old man was sitting at his meal, who greeted hercordially, and made her sit down while she stumbled through the usualquestions and exhortations. "Are ye no' bidin' at Glenavelin?" heasked. "And have I no seen ye walking on the hill wi' Maister Lewie?"When the girl assented, he asked, with the indignation of theprivileged, "Then what for are ye sac keen this body Stocks should winin? If Maister Lewie's fond o' ye, wad it no be wiser--like to wark forhim? Poalitics! What should a woman's poalitics be but just the sameas her lad's? I hae nae opeenion o' this clash about weemen'seddication." And with flaming cheeks the poor girl had risen and fledfrom the old reactionary.
The incident burned into her mind,
and she was wretched with the anomalyof her position. A dawning respect for her rejected lover began to risein her heart. The first of his meetings which she attended hadimpressed her with his skill in his own vocation. He had held thosepeople interested. He had spoken bluntly, strongly, honestly. To fewwomen is it given to distinguish the subtle shades of sincerity inspeech, and to the rule Alice was no exception. The rhetoric and thecheers which followed had roused the speaker to a new life. His facebecame keen, almost attractive, without question full of power. He wasan orator beyond doubt, and when he concluded in a riot of applause,Alice sat with small hands clenched and eyes shining with delight. Hehad spoken the main articles of her creed, but with what force andfreshness! She was convinced, satisfied, delighted; though somewhere inher thought lurked her old dislike of the man and the memory of another.
As ill-luck would have it, the next night she went to hear Lewis inGledsmuir, when that young gentleman was at his worst. She wentunattended, being a fearless young woman, and consequently found herselfin the very back of the hall crowded among some vehement politicians.The audience, to begin with, was not unkind. Lewis was greeted withapplause, and at the first heard with patience. But his speech wasvague, incoherent, and tactless. To her unquiet eyes he seemed to beafraid of the men before him. Every phrase was guarded with a proviso,and "possiblys" bristled in every sentence. The politicians at the backgrew restless, and Alice was compelled to listen to their short,scathing criticisms. Soon the meeting was hopelessly out of hand. Menrose and rudely marched to the door. Catcalls were frequent from thecorners, and the back of the hall became aggressive. The girl had satwith white, pained face, understanding little save that Lewis wastalking nonsense and losing all grip on his hearers. In spite ofherself she was contrasting this fiasco with the pithy words of Mr.Stocks. When the meeting became unruly she looked for some display ofcharacter, some proof of power. Mr. Stocks would have fiercely cowedthe opposition, or at least have spoken the last word in any quarrel.Lewis's conduct was different. He shrugged his shoulders, made somelaughing remark to a friend on the platform, and with all thenonchalance in the world asked the meeting if they wished to hear anymore. A claque of his supporters replied with feigned enthusiasm, but amalcontent at Alice's side rose and stamped to the door. "I came tohear sense," he cried, "and no this bairn's-blethers!"
The poor girl was in despair. She had fancied him a man of power andambition, a doer, a man of action. But he was no more than a creatureof words and sentiment, graceful manners, and an engaging appearance.The despised Mr. Stocks was the real worker. She had laughed at hisincessant solemnity as the badge of a fool, and adored Lewis'slight-heartedness as the true air of the great. But she had beenmistaken. Things were what they seemed. The light-hearted was thehalf-hearted, "the wandering dilettante," Mr. Stocks had called him,"the worst type of the pseudo-culture of our universities." She toldherself she hated the whole affectation of breeding and chivalry. Thosemen--Lewis and his friends--were always kind and soft-spoken to her andher sex. Her soul hated it; she cried aloud for equal treatment, for ashare of the iron and rigour of life. Their manners were a mere cloakfor contempt. If they could only be rude to a woman, it would be awelcome relief from this facile condescension. What had she or anywoman with brains to do in that galley? They despised her kind, withthe scorn of sultans who chose their women-folk for looks and graces.The thought was degrading, and a bitterness filled her heart against thewhole clique of easy aristocrats. Mr. Stocks was her true ally. Tohim she was a woman, an equal; to them she was an engaging child, adelicate toy.
So far she went in her heresy, but no farther. It is a true saying thatyou will find twenty heroic women before you may meet one generous one;but Alice was not wholly without this rarest of qualities. The memoryof a frank voice, very honest grey eyes, and a robust cheerfulnessbrought back some affection for the erring Lewis. The problem wasbeyond her reconciling efforts, so the poor girl, torn between commonsense and feeling, and recognizing with painful clearness the complexityof life, found refuge in secret tears.
III
The honours of the contest, so far as Lewis's party was concerned, fellto George Winterham, and this was the fashion of the event. He had beendragged reluctantly into the thing, foreseeing dire disaster forhimself, for he knew little and cared less about matters political,though he was ready enough at a pinch to place his ignorance at hisfriend's disposal. So he had been set to the dreary work ofcommittee-rooms; and then, since his manners were not unpleasing,dispatched as aide-de-camp to any chance orator who enlivened thecounty. But at last a crisis arrived in which other use was made ofhim. A speaker of some pretensions had been announced for a certainnight at the considerable village of Allerfoot. The great man failed,and as it was the very eve of the election none could be found for hisplace. Lewis was in despair, till he thought of George. It was adesperate chance, but the necessity was urgent, so, shutting himself upfor an hour, he wrote the better part of a speech which he entrusted tohis friend to prepare. George, having a good memory, laboriouslylearned it by heart, and clutching the friendly paper andwhole-heartedly abusing his chief, he set out grimly to his fate.
Promptly at the hour of eight he was deposited at the door of theMasonic Hail in Allerfoot. The place seemed full, and a nervouschairman was hovering around the gate. News of the great man'sdefection had already been received, and he was in the extremes ofnervousness. He greeted George as a saviour, and led him inside, wheresome three hundred people crowded a small whitewashed building. Thevillage of Allerfoot itself is a little place, but it is the centre of awide pastoral district, and the folk assembled were brown-faced herdsand keepers from the hills, plough-men from the flats of Glen Aller, afew fishermen from the near sea-coast, as well as the normal inhabitantsof the village.
George was wretchedly nervous and sat in a cold sweat while the chairmanexplained that the great Mr. S---- deeply regretted that at the lastmoment he was unfortunately compelled to break so important anengagement, but that he had sent in his stead Mr. George Winterham,whose name was well known as a distinguished Oxford scholar and a risingbarrister. George, who had been ploughed twice for Smalls and hadeventually taken a pass degree, and to whom the law courts were nearlyas unknown as the Pyramids, groaned inwardly at the astounding news.The audience might have been a turnip field for all the personality itpossessed for him. He heard their applause as the chairman sat downmopping his brow, and he rose to his feet conscious that he was smilinglike an idiot. He made some introductory remarks of his own--that "hewas sorry the other chap hadn't turned up, that he was happy to have theprivilege of expounding to them his views on this great subject "--andthen with an ominous sinking of heart plucked forth his papers andlaunched into the unknown.
The better part of the speech was wiped clean from his memory at thestart, so he had to lean heavily on the written word. He read rapidlybut without intelligence. Now and again a faint cheer would break theeven flow, and he would look up for a moment with startled eyes, only togo off again with quickened speed. He found himself talking neatparadoxes which he did not understand, and speaking glibly of nameswhich to him were no more than echoes. Eventually he came to an end atleast twenty minutes before a normal political speech should close, andsat down, hot and perplexed, with a horrible sense of having made a foolof himself.
The chairman, no less perplexed, made the usual remarks and then calledfor questions, for the time had to be filled in somehow. The words leftGeorge aghast. The wretched man looked forward to raw public shame.His ignorance would be exposed, his presumption laid bare, his pridethrown in the dust. He nerved himself for a despairing effort. Hewould brazen things out as far as possible; afterwards, let the heavensfall.
An old minister rose and asked in a thin ancient voice what theGovernment had done for the protection of missionaries inKhass-Kotannun. Was he, Mr. Winterham, aware that our missionaries inthat distant land had been compelled to wear native dress by thearrogant chiefs, and so fallen victims to numerous chills and epide
mics?
George replied that he considered the treatment abominable, believedthat the matter occupied the mind of the Foreign Office night and day,and would be glad personally to subscribe to any relief fund. The goodman declared himself satisfied, and St. Sebastian breathed freelyagain.
A sturdy man in homespun rose to discover the Government's intention onChurch matters. Did the speaker ken that on his small holding he paidten pound sterling in tithes, though he himself did not hold with theEstablishment, being a Reformed Presbyterian? The Laodicean George saidhe did not understand the differences, but that it seemed to him aconfounded shame, and he would undertake that Mr. Haystoun, ifreturned, would take immediate steps in the matter.
So far he had done well, but with the next question he betrayed hisignorance. A good man arose, also hot on Church affairs, to discourseon some disabilities, and casually described himself as a U.P. George'swits busied themselves in guessing at the mystic sign. At last to hisdelight he seemed to achieve it, and, in replying, electrified hisaudience by assuming that the two letters stood for UnreformedPresbyterian.
But the meeting was in good humour in spite of his incomprehensibleaddress and unsatisfying answers, till a small section of the youngbloods of the opposite party, who had come to disturb, felt that thispeace must be put an end to. Mr. Samuel M'Turk, lawyer's clerk, whohailed from the west country and betrayed his origin in his speech, roseamid some applause from his admirers to discomfit George. He was ayoung man with a long, sallow face, carefully oiled and parted hair, anda resonant taste in dress. A bundle of papers graced his hand, and hisair was parliamentary.
"Wis Mister Winterham aware that Mister Haystoun had contradictedhimself on two occasions lately, as he would proceed to show?"
George heard him patiently, said that now he was aware of the fact, butcouldn't for the life of him see what the deuce it mattered.
"After Mister Winterham's ignoring of my pint," went on the young man,"I proceed to show ..." and with all the calmness in the world hedisplayed to his own satisfaction how Mr. Lewis Haystoun was no fitperson to represent the constituency. He profaned the Sabbath, whichthis gentleman professed to hold dear, he was notorious for drunkenness,and his conduct abroad had not been above suspicion.
George was on his feet in a moment, his confusion gone, his face veryred, and his shoulders squared for a fight. The man saw the effect ofhis words, and promptly sat down.
"Get up," said George abruptly.
The man's face whitened and he shrank back among his friends.
"Get up; up higher--on the top of the seat, that everybody may see andhear you! Now repeat very carefully all that over again."
The man's confidence had deserted him. He stammered something aboutmeaning no harm.
"You called my friend a drunken blackguard. I am going to hear theaccusation in detail." George stood up to his full height, a terriblefigure to the shrinking clerk, who repeated his former words with afaltering tongue.
He heard him out quietly, and then stared coolly down on the people. Hefelt himself master of the situation. The enemy had played into hishands, and in the shape of a sweating clerk sat waiting on his action.
"You have heard what this man has to tell you. I ask you as men, asfolk of this countryside, if it is true?"
It was the real speech of the evening, which was all along waiting to bedelivered instead of the frigid pedantries on the paper. A man wasspeaking simply, valiantly, on behalf of his friend. It was cunninglydone, with the natural tact which rarely deserts the truly honest man inhis hour of extremity. He spoke of Lewis as he had known him, at schooland college and in many wild sporting expeditions in desert places, andslowly the people kindled and listened. Then, so to speak, he kickedaway the scaffolding of his erection. He ceased to be the apologist,and became the frank eulogist. He stood squarely on the edge of theplatform, gathering the eyes of his hearers, smiling pleasantly, armsakimbo, a man at his ease and possibly at his pleasure.
"Some of you are herds," he cried, "and some are fishers, and some arefarmers, and some are labourers. Also some of you call yourselvesRadicals or Tories or Socialists. But you are all of you far more thanthese things. You are men--men of this great countryside, with blood inyour veins and vigour in that blood. If you were a set of pale-facedmechanics, I should not be speaking to you, for I should not understandyou. But I know you all, and I like you, and I am going to prevent youfrom making godless fools of yourselves. There are two men before you.One is a very clever man, whom I don't know anything about, nor youeither. The other is my best friend, and known to all of you. Many ofyou have shot or sailed with him, many of you were born on his and hisfathers' lands. I have told you of his abilities and quoted betterjudges than myself. I don't need to tell you that he is the best ofmen, a sportsman, a kind master, a very good fellow indeed. You canmake up your mind between the two. Opinions matter very little, butgood men are too scarce to be neglected. Why, you fools," he cried withboisterous good humour, "I should back Lewis if he were a Mohammedan oran Anarchist. The man is sound metal, I tell you, and that's all Iask."
It was a very young man's confession of faith, but it was enough. Themeeting went with him almost to a man. A roar of applause greeted thesmiling orator, and when he sat down with flushed face, bright eyes, anda consciousness of having done his duty, John Sanderson, herd in NetherCallowa, rose to move a vote of confidence:
"That this assembly is of opinion that Maister Lewis Haystoun is a guidman, and sae is our friend Maister Winterham, and we'll send Lewie backto Parliament or be--"
It was duly seconded and carried with acclamation.