.History
is
a
chaos
,
only
because
mankind
has
been
ever
rebelling
against
me
,
its
lawful
ruler
...
and
yet
not
a
chaos
...
for
I
still
stand
,
and
grow
rooted
on
the
rock
of
ages
,
and
under
my
boughs
are
fowl
of
every
wing
.
I
alone
have
been
and
am
consistent
,
progressive
,
expansive
,
welcoming
every
race
,
and
intellect
and
character
into
its
proper
place
in
my
great
organism
...
meeting
alike
the
wants
of
the
king
and
the
beggar
,
the
artist
and
the
devotee
...
there
is
free
room
for
all
within
my
heaven-wide
bosom
.
Infallibility
is
not
the
exclusive
heritage
of
one
proud
and
ignorant
Island
,
but
of
a
system
which
knows
no
distinction
of
language
,
race
,
or
clime
.
The
communion
of
saints
is
not
a
bygone
tale
,
for
my
saints
,
redeemed
from
every
age
and
every
nation
under
heaven
,
still
live
,
and
love
,
and
help
and
intercede
.
The
union
of
heaven
and
earth
is
not
a
barbaric
myth
;
for
I
have
still
my
miracles
,
my
Host
,
my
exorcism
,
my
absolution
.
The
present
rule
of
God
is
still
,
as
ever
,
a
living
reality
;
for
I
rule
in
His
name
,
and
fulfil
all
His
will
.
”
‘How
can
I
turn
away
from
such
a
voice
?
What
if
some
of
her
doctrines
may
startle
my
untutored
and
ignorant
understanding
?
...
If
she
is
the
appointed
teacher
,
she
will
know
best
what
truths
to
teach
...
The
disciple
is
not
above
his
master
...
or
wise
in
requiring
him
to
demonstrate
the
abstrusest
problems
...
spiritual
problems
,
too
...
before
he
allows
his
right
to
teach
the
elements
.
Humbly
I
must
enter
the
temple
porch
;
gradually
and
trustfully
proceed
with
my
initiation
...
When
that
is
past
,
and
not
before
...
shall
I
be
a
fit
judge
of
the
mysteries
of
the
inner
shrine
.
‘There
...
I
have
written
a
long
letter
...
with
my
own
heart’s
blood
...
.
Think
over
it
well
,
before
you
despise
it
...
And
if
you
can
refute
it
for
me
,
and
sweep
the
whole
away
like
a
wild
dream
when
one
awakes
,
none
will
be
more
thankful
—
paradoxical
as
it
may
seem
—
than
your
unhappy
Cousin.’
And
Lancelot
did
consider
that
letter
,
and
answered
it
as
follows
:
—
‘It
is
a
relief
to
me
at
least
,
dear
Luke
,
that
you
are
going
to
Rome
in
search
of
a
great
idea
,
and
not
merely
from
selfish
superstitious
terror
(
as
I
should
call
it
)
about
the
“
salvation
of
your
soul
.
”
And
it
is
a
new
and
very
important
thought
to
me
,
that
Rome’s
scheme
of
this
world
,
rather
than
of
the
next
,
forms
her
chief
allurement
.
But
as
for
that
flesh
and
spirit
question
,
or
the
apostolic
succession
one
either
;
all
you
seem
to
me
,
as
a
looker
on
,
to
have
logically
proved
,
is
that
Protestants
,
orthodox
and
unorthodox
,
must
be
a
little
more
scientific
and
careful
in
their
use
of
the
terms
.
But
as
for
adopting
your
use
of
them
,
and
the
consequences
thereof
—
you
must
pardon
me
,
and
I
suspect
,
them
too
.
Not
that
.
Anything
but
that
.
Whatever
is
right
,
that
is
wrong
.
Better
to
be
inconsistent
in
truth
,
than
consistent
in
a
mistake
.
And
your
Romish
idea
of
man
is
a
mistake
—
utterly
wrong
and
absurd
—
except
in
the
one
requirement
of
righteousness
and
godliness
,
which
Protestants
and
heathen
philosophers
have
required
and
do
require
just
as
much
as
you
.
My
dear
Luke
,
your
ideal
men
and
women
won’t
do
—
for
they
are
not
men
and
women
at
all
,
but
what
you
call
“
saints
”
...
Your
Calendar
,
your
historic
list
of
the
Earth’s
worthies
,
won’t
do
—
not
they
,
but
others
,
are
the
people
who
have
brought
Humanity
thus
far
.
I
don’t
deny
that
there
are
great
souls
among
them
;
Beckets
,
and
Hugh
Grostêtes
,
and
Elizabeths
of
Hungary
.
But
you
are
the
last
people
to
praise
them
,
for
you
don’t
understand
them
.
Thierry
honours
Thomas
à
Becket
more
than
all
Canonisations
and
worshippers
do
,
because
he
does
see
where
the
man’s
true
greatness
lay
,
and
you
don’t
.
Why
,
you
may
hunt
all
Surius
for
such
a
biography
of
a
mediaeval
worthy
as
Carlyle
has
given
of
your
Abbot
Samson
.
I
have
read
,
or
tried
to
read
your
Surius
,
and
Alban
Butler
,
and
so
forth
—
and
they
seemed
to
me
bats
and
asses
—
One
really
pitied
the
poor
saints
and
martyrs
for
having
such
blind
biographers
—
such
dunghill
cocks
,
who
overlooked
the
pearl
of
real
human
love
and
nobleness
in
them
,
in
their
greediness
to
snatch
up
and
parade
the
rotten
chaff
of
superstition
,
and
self-torture
,
and
spiritual
dyspepsia
,
which
had
overlaid
it
.
My
dear
fellow
,
that
Calendar
ruins
your
cause
—
you
are
“
sacrés
aristocrates
”
—
kings
and
queens
,
bishops
and
virgins
by
the
hundred
at
one
end
;
a
beggar
or
two
at
the
other
;
and
but
one
real
human
lay
St.
Homobonus
to
fill
up
the
great
gulf
between
—
A
pretty
list
to
allure
the
English
middle
classes
,
or
the
Lancashire
working-men
!
—
Almost
as
charmingly
suited
to
England
as
the
present
free
,
industrious
,
enlightened
,
and
moral
state
of
that
Eternal
City
,
which
has
been
blest
with
the
visible
presence
and
peculiar
rule
,
temporal
as
well
as
spiritual
,
too
,
of
your
Dalai
Lama
.
His
pills
do
not
seem
to
have
had
much
practical
effect
there
...
My
good
Luke
,
till
he
can
show
us
a
little
better
specimen
of
the
kingdom
of
Heaven
organised
and
realised
on
earth
,
in
the
country
which
does
belong
to
him
,
soil
and
people
,
body
and
soul
,
we
must
decline
his
assistance
in
realising
that
kingdom
in
countries
which
don’t
belong
to
him
.
If
the
state
of
Rome
don’t
show
his
idea
of
man
and
society
to
be
a
rotten
lie
,
what
proof
would
you
have
?
...
perhaps
the
charming
results
of
a
century
of
Jesuitocracy
,
as
they
were
represented
on
a
French
stage
in
the
year
1793
?
I
can’t
answer
his
arguments
,
you
see
,
or
yours
either
;
I
am
an
Englishman
,
and
not
a
controversialist
.
The
only
answer
I
give
is
John
Bull’s
old
dumb
instinctive
“
Everlasting
No
!
”
which
he
will
stand
by
,
if
need
be
,
with
sharp
shot
and
cold
steel
—
“
Not
that
;
anything
but
that
.
No
kingdom
of
Heaven
at
all
for
us
,
if
the
kingdom
of
Heaven
is
like
that
.
No
heroes
at
all
for
us
,
if
their
heroism
is
to
consist
in
their
being
not-men
.
Better
no
society
at
all
,
but
only
a
competitive
wild-beast’s
den
,
than
a
sham
society
.
Better
no
faith
,
no
hope
,
no
love
,
no
God
,
than
shams
thereof
.
”
I
take
my
stand
on
fact
and
nature
;
you
may
call
them
idols
and
phantoms
;
I
say
they
need
be
so
no
longer
to
any
man
,
since
Bacon
has
taught
us
to
discover
the
Eternal
Laws
under
the
outward
phenomena
.
Here
on
blank
materialism
will
I
stand
,
and
testify
against
all
Religions
and
Gods
whatsoever
,
if
they
must
needs
be
like
that
Roman
religion
,
that
Roman
God
.
I
don’t
believe
they
need
—
not
I
.
But
if
they
need
,
they
must
go
.
We
cannot
have
a
“
Deus
quidam
deceptor
.
”
If
there
be
a
God
,
these
trees
and
stones
,
these
beasts
and
birds
must
be
His
will
,
whatever
else
is
not
.
My
body
,
and
brain
,
and
faculties
,
and
appetites
must
be
His
will
,
whatever
else
is
not
.
Whatsoever
I
can
do
with
them
in
accordance
with
the
constitution
of
them
and
nature
must
be
His
will
,
whatever
else
is
not
.
Those
laws
of
Nature
must
reveal
Him
,
and
be
revealed
by
Him
,
whatever
else
is
not
.
Man’s
scientific
conquest
of
nature
must
be
one
phase
of
His
Kingdom
on
Earth
,
whatever
else
is
not
.
I
don’t
deny
that
there
are
spiritual
laws
which
man
is
meant
to
obey
—
How
can
I
,
who
feel
in
my
own
daily
and
inexplicable
unhappiness
the
fruits
of
having
broken
them
?
—
But
I
do
say
,
that
those
spiritual
laws
must
be
in
perfect
harmony
with
every
fresh
physical
law
which
we
discover
:
that
they
cannot
be
intended
to
compete
self-destructively
with
each
other
;
that
the
spiritual
cannot
be
intended
to
be
perfected
by
ignoring
or
crushing
the
physical
,
unless
God
is
a
deceiver
,
and
His
universe
a
self-contradiction
.
And
by
this
test
alone
will
I
try
all
theories
,
and
dogmas
,
and
spiritualities
whatsoever
—
Are
they
in
accordance
with
the
laws
of
nature
?
And
therefore
when
your
party
compare
sneeringly
Romish
Sanctity
,
and
English
Civilisation
,
I
say
,
“
Take
you
the
Sanctity
,
and
give
me
the
Civilisation
!
”
The
one
may
be
a
dream
,
for
it
is
unnatural
;
the
other
cannot
be
,
for
it
is
natural
;
and
not
an
evil
in
it
at
which
you
sneer
but
is
discovered
,
day
by
day
,
to
be
owing
to
some
infringement
of
the
laws
of
nature
.
When
we
“
draw
bills
on
nature
,
”
as
Carlyle
says
,
“
she
honours
them
,
”
—
our
ships
do
sail
;
our
mills
do
work
;
our
doctors
do
cure
;
our
soldiers
do
fight
.
And
she
does
not
honour
yours
;
for
your
Jesuits
have
,
by
their
own
confession
,
to
lie
,
to
swindle
,
to
get
even
man
to
accept
theirs
for
them
.
So
give
me
the
political
economist
,
the
sanitary
reformer
,
the
engineer
;
and
take
your
saints
and
virgins
,
relics
and
miracles
.
The
spinning-jenny
and
the
railroad
,
Cunard’s
liners
and
the
electric
telegraph
,
are
to
me
,
if
not
to
you
,
signs
that
we
are
,
on
some
points
at
least
,
in
harmony
with
the
universe
;
that
there
is
a
mighty
spirit
working
among
us
,
who
cannot
be
your
anarchic
and
destroying
Devil
,
and
therefore
may
be
the
Ordering
and
Creating
God.’
Which
of
them
do
you
think
,
reader
,
had
most
right
on
his
side
?
CHAPTER
VI
:
VOGUE
LA
GALÈRE
Lancelot
was
now
so
far
improved
in
health
as
to
return
to
his
little
cottage
ornée
.
He
gave
himself
up
freely
to
his
new
passion
.
With
his
comfortable
fortune
and
good
connections
,
the
future
seemed
bright
and
possible
enough
as
to
circumstances
.
He
knew
that
Argemone
felt
for
him
;
how
much
it
seemed
presumptuous
even
to
speculate
,
and
as
yet
no
golden-visaged
meteor
had
arisen
portentous
in
his
amatory
zodiac
.
No
rich
man
had
stepped
in
to
snatch
,
in
spite
of
all
his
own
flocks
and
herds
,
at
the
poor
man’s
own
ewe-lamb
,
and
set
him
barking
at
all
the
world
,
as
many
a
poor
lover
has
to
do
in
defence
of
his
morsel
of
enjoyment
,
now
turned
into
a
mere
bone
of
contention
and
loadstone
for
all
hungry
kites
and
crows
.
All
that
had
to
be
done
was
to
render
himself
worthy
of
her
,
and
in
doing
so
,
to
win
her
.
And
now
he
began
to
feel
more
painfully
his
ignorance
of
society
,
of
practical
life
,
and
the
outward
present
.
He
blamed
himself
angrily
for
having
,
as
he
now
thought
,
wasted
his
time
on
ancient
histories
and
foreign
travels
,
while
he
neglected
the
living
wonderful
present
,
which
weltered
daily
round
him
,
every
face
embodying
a
living
soul
.
For
now
he
began
to
feel
that
those
faces
did
hide
living
souls
;
formerly
he
had
half
believed
—
he
had
tried
,
but
from
laziness
,
to
make
himself
wholly
believe
—
that
they
were
all
empty
masks
,
phantasies
,
without
interest
or
significance
for
him
.
But
,
somehow
,
in
the
light
of
his
new
love
for
Argemone
,
the
whole
human
race
seemed
glorified
,
brought
nearer
,
endeared
to
him
.
So
it
must
be
.
He
had
spoken
of
a
law
wider
than
he
thought
in
his
fancy
,
that
the
angels
might
learn
love
for
all
by
love
for
an
individual
.
Do
we
not
all
learn
love
so
?
Is
it
not
the
first
touch
of
the
mother’s
bosom
which
awakens
in
the
infant’s
heart
that
spark
of
affection
which
is
hereafter
to
spread
itself
out
towards
every
human
being
,
and
to
lose
none
of
its
devotion
for
its
first
object
,
as
it
expands
itself
to
innumerable
new
ones
?
Is
it
not
by
love
,
too
—
by
looking
into
loving
human
eyes
,
by
feeling
the
care
of
loving
hands
,
—
that
the
infant
first
learns
that
there
exist
other
beings
beside
itself
?
—
that
every
body
which
it
sees
expresses
a
heart
and
will
like
its
own
?
Be
sure
of
it
.
Be
sure
that
to
have
found
the
key
to
one
heart
is
to
have
found
the
key
to
all
;
that
truly
to
love
is
truly
to
know
;
and
truly
to
love
one
,
is
the
first
step
towards
truly
loving
all
who
bear
the
same
flesh
and
blood
with
the
beloved
.
Like
children
,
we
must
dress
up
even
our
unseen
future
in
stage
properties
borrowed
from
the
tried
and
palpable
present
,
ere
we
can
look
at
it
without
horror
.
We
fear
and
hate
the
utterly
unknown
,
and
it
only
.
Even
pain
we
hate
only
when
we
cannot
know
it
;
when
we
can
only
feel
it
,
without
explaining
it
,
and
making
it
harmonise
with
our
notions
of
our
own
deserts
and
destiny
.
And
as
for
human
beings
,
there
surely
it
stands
true
,
wherever
else
it
may
not
,
that
all
knowledge
is
love
,
and
all
love
knowledge
;
that
even
with
the
meanest
,
we
cannot
gain
a
glimpse
into
their
inward
trials
and
struggles
,
without
an
increase
of
sympathy
and
affection
.
Whether
he
reasoned
thus
or
not
,
Lancelot
found
that
his
new
interest
in
the
working
classes
was
strangely
quickened
by
his
passion
.
It
seemed
the
shortest
and
clearest
way
toward
a
practical
knowledge
of
the
present
.
‘Here
,
’
he
said
to
himself
,
‘in
the
investigation
of
existing
relations
between
poor
and
rich
,
I
shall
gain
more
real
acquaintance
with
English
society
,
than
by
dawdling
centuries
in
exclusive
drawing-rooms.’
The
inquiry
had
not
yet
presented
itself
to
him
as
a
duty
;
perhaps
so
much
the
better
,
that
it
might
be
the
more
thoroughly
a
free-will
offering
of
love
.
At
least
it
opened
a
new
field
of
amusement
and
knowledge
;
it
promised
him
new
studies
of
human
life
;
and
as
he
lay
on
his
sofa
and
let
his
thoughts
flow
,
Tregarva’s
dark
revelations
began
to
mix
themselves
with
dreams
about
the
regeneration
of
the
Whitford
poor
,
and
those
again
with
dreams
about
the
heiress
of
Whitford
;
and
many
a
luscious
scene
and
noble
plan
rose
brightly
detailed
in
his
exuberant
imagination
.
For
Lancelot
,
like
all
born
artists
,
could
only
think
in
a
concrete
form
.
He
never
worked
out
a
subject
without
embodying
it
in
some
set
oration
,
dialogue
,
or
dramatic
castle
in
the
air
.
But
the
more
he
dreamt
,
the
more
he
felt
that
a
material
beauty
of
flesh
and
blood
required
a
material
house
,
baths
,
and
boudoirs
,
conservatories
,
and
carriages
;
a
safe
material
purse
,
and
fixed
material
society
;
law
and
order
,
and
the
established
frame-work
of
society
,
gained
an
importance
in
his
eyes
which
they
had
never
had
before
.
‘Well
,
’
he
said
to
himself
,
‘I
am
turning
quite
practical
and
auld-warld
.
Those
old
Greeks
were
not
so
far
wrong
when
they
said
that
what
made
men
citizens
,
patriots
,
heroes
,
was
the
love
of
wedded
wife
and
child.’
‘Wedded
wife
and
child
!
’
—
He
shrank
in
from
the
daring
of
the
delicious
thought
,
as
if
he
had
intruded
without
invitation
into
a
hidden
sanctuary
,
and
looked
round
for
a
book
to
drive
away
the
dazzling
picture
.
But
even
there
his
thoughts
were
haunted
by
Argemone’s
face
,
and
‘When
his
regard
Was
raised
by
intense
pensiveness
,
two
eyes
,
Two
starry
eyes
,
hung
in
the
gloom
of
thought
,
And
seemed
,
with
their
serene
and
azure
smiles
,
To
beckon
him.’
He
took
up
,
with
a
new
interest
‘Chartism
,
’
which
alone
of
all
Mr.
Carlyle’s
works
he
had
hitherto
disliked
,
because
his
own
luxurious
day-dreams
had
always
flowed
in
such
sad
discord
with
the
terrible
warnings
of
the
modern
seer
,
and
his
dark
vistas
of
starvation
,
crime
,
neglect
,
and
discontent
.
‘Well
,
’
he
said
to
himself
,
as
he
closed
the
book
,
‘I
suppose
it
is
good
for
us
easy-going
ones
now
and
then
to
face
the
possibility
of
a
change
.
Gold
has
grown
on
my
back
as
feathers
do
on
geese
,
without
my
own
will
or
deed
;
but
considering
that
gold
,
like
feathers
,
is
equally
useful
to
those
who
have
and
those
who
have
not
,
why
,
it
is
worth
while
for
the
goose
to
remember
that
he
may
possibly
one
day
be
plucked
.
And
what
remains
?
“
Io
,
”
as
Medea
says
...
But
Argemone
?
’
...
And
Lancelot
felt
,
for
the
moment
,
as
conservative
as
the
tutelary
genius
of
all
special
constables
.
As
the
last
thought
passed
through
his
brain
,
Bracebridge’s
little
mustang
slouched
past
the
window
,
ridden
(
without
a
saddle
)
by
a
horseman
whom
there
was
no
mistaking
for
no
one
but
the
immaculate
colonel
,
the
chevalier
sans
peur
et
sans
reproche
,
dared
to
go
about
the
country
‘such
a
figure.’
A
minute
afterwards
he
walked
in
,
in
a
student’s
felt
hat
,
a
ragged
heather-coloured
coatee
,
and
old
white
‘regulation
drills
,
’
shrunk
half-way
up
his
legs
,
a
pair
of
embroidered
Indian
mocassins
,
and
an
enormous
meerschaum
at
his
button-hole
.
‘Where
have
you
been
this
last
week
?
’
‘Over
head
and
ears
in
Young
England
,
till
I
fled
to
you
for
a
week’s
common
sense
.
A
glass
of
cider
,
for
mercy’s
sake
,
“
to
take
the
taste
of
it
out
of
my
mouth
,
”
as
Bill
Sykes
has
it.’
‘Where
have
you
been
staying
?
’
‘With
young
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
among
high
art
and
painted
glass
,
spade
farms
,
and
model
smell-traps
,
rubricalities
and
sanitary
reforms
,
and
all
other
inventions
,
possible
and
impossible
,
for
“
stretching
the
old
formula
to
meet
the
new
fact
,
”
as
your
favourite
prophet
says.’
‘Till
the
old
formula
cracks
under
the
tension.’
‘And
cracks
its
devotees
,
too
,
I
think
.
Here
comes
the
cider
!
’
‘But
,
my
dear
fellow
,
you
must
not
laugh
at
all
this
.
Young
England
or
Peelite
,
this
is
all
right
and
noble
.
What
a
yet
unspoken
poetry
there
is
in
that
very
sanitary
reform
!
It
is
the
great
fact
of
the
age
.
We
shall
have
men
arise
and
write
epics
on
it
,
when
they
have
learnt
that
“
to
the
pure
all
things
are
pure
,
”
and
that
science
and
usefulness
contain
a
divine
element
,
even
in
their
lowest
appliances.’
‘Write
one
yourself
,
and
call
it
the
Chadwickiad
.’
‘Why
not
?
‘Smells
and
the
Man
I
sing
.
There’s
a
beginning
at
once
.
Why
don’t
you
rather
,
with
your
practical
power
,
turn
sanitary
reformer
—
the
only
true
soldier
—
and
conquer
those
real
devils
and
“
natural
enemies
”
of
Englishmen
,
carbonic
acid
and
sulphuretted
hydrogen
?
’
‘
Ce
n’est
pas
mon
métier
,
my
dear
fellow
.
I
am
miserably
behind
the
age
.
People
are
getting
so
cursedly
in
earnest
now-a-days
,
that
I
shall
have
to
bolt
to
the
backwoods
to
amuse
myself
in
peace
;
or
else
sham
dumb
as
the
monkeys
do
,
lest
folks
should
find
out
that
I’m
rational
,
and
set
me
to
work.’
Lancelot
laughed
and
sighed
.
‘But
how
on
earth
do
you
contrive
to
get
on
so
well
with
men
with
whom
you
have
not
an
idea
in
common
!
’
‘
Savoir
faire
,
O
infant
Hercules
!
own
daddy
to
savoir
vivre
.
I
am
a
good
listener
;
and
,
therefore
,
the
most
perfect
,
because
the
most
silent
,
of
flatterers
.
When
they
talk
Puginesquery
,
I
stick
my
head
on
one
side
attentively
,
and
“
think
the
more
,
”
like
the
lady’s
parrot
.
I
have
been
all
the
morning
looking
over
a
set
of
drawings
for
my
lord’s
new
chapel
;
and
every
soul
in
the
party
fancies
me
a
great
antiquary
,
just
because
I
have
been
retailing
to
B
as
my
own
everything
that
A
told
me
the
moment
before.’
‘I
envy
you
your
tact
,
at
all
events.’
‘Why
the
deuce
should
you
?
You
may
rise
in
time
to
something
better
than
tact
;
to
what
the
good
book
,
I
suppose
,
means
by
“
wisdom
.
”
Young
geniuses
like
you
,
who
have
been
green
enough
to
sell
your
souls
to
“
truth
,
”
must
not
meddle
with
tact
,
unless
you
wish
to
fare
as
the
donkey
did
when
he
tried
to
play
lap-dog.’
‘At
all
events
,
I
would
sooner
remain
cub
till
they
run
me
down
and
eat
me
,
than
give
up
speaking
my
mind
,
’
said
Lancelot
.
‘Fool
I
may
be
,
but
the
devil
himself
shan’t
make
me
knave.’
‘Quite
proper
.
On
two
thousand
a
year
a
man
can
afford
to
be
honest
.
Kick
out
lustily
right
and
left
!
—
After
all
,
the
world
is
like
a
spaniel
;
the
more
you
beat
it
,
the
better
it
likes
you
—
if
you
have
money
.
Only
don’t
kick
too
hard
;
for
,
after
all
,
it
has
a
hundred
million
pair
of
shins
to
your
one.’
‘Don’t
fear
that
I
shall
run
a-muck
against
society
just
now
.
I
am
too
thoroughly
out
of
my
own
good
books
.
I
have
been
for
years
laughing
at
Young
England
,
and
yet
its
little
finger
is
thicker
than
my
whole
body
,
for
it
is
trying
to
do
something
;
and
I
,
alas
,
am
doing
utterly
nothing
.
I
should
be
really
glad
to
take
a
lesson
of
these
men
and
their
plans
for
social
improvement.’
‘You
will
have
a
fine
opportunity
this
evening
.
Don’t
you
dine
at
Minchampstead
?
’
‘Yes
.
Do
you
?
’
‘Mr
.
Jingle
dines
everywhere
,
except
at
home
.
Will
you
take
me
over
in
your
trap
?
’
‘Done
.
But
whom
shall
we
meet
there
?
’
‘The
Lavingtons
,
and
Vieuxbois
,
and
Vaurien
,
and
a
parson
or
two
,
I
suppose
.
But
between
Saint
Venus
and
Vieuxbois
you
may
soon
learn
enough
to
make
you
a
sadder
man
,
if
not
a
wiser
one.’
‘Why
not
a
wiser
one
?
Sadder
than
now
I
cannot
be
;
or
less
wise
,
God
knows.’
The
colonel
looked
at
Lancelot
with
one
of
those
kindly
thoughtful
smiles
,
which
came
over
him
whenever
his
better
child’s
heart
could
bubble
up
through
the
thick
crust
of
worldliness
.
‘My
young
friend
,
you
have
been
a
little
too
much
on
the
stilts
heretofore
.
Take
care
that
,
now
you
are
off
them
,
you
don’t
lie
down
and
sleep
,
instead
of
walking
honestly
on
your
legs
.
Have
faith
in
yourself
;
pick
these
men’s
brains
,
and
all
men’s
.
You
can
do
it
.
Say
to
yourself
boldly
,
as
the
false
prophet
in
India
said
to
the
missionary
,
“
I
have
fire
enough
in
my
stomach
to
burn
up
”
a
dozen
stucco
and
filigree
reformers
and
“
assimilate
their
ashes
into
the
bargain
,
like
one
of
Liebig’s
cabbages
.
”
’
‘How
can
I
have
faith
in
myself
,
when
I
am
playing
traitor
to
myself
every
hour
in
the
day
?
And
yet
faith
in
something
I
must
have
:
in
woman
,
perhaps.’
‘Never
!
’
said
the
colonel
,
energetically
.
‘In
anything
but
woman
?
She
must
be
led
,
not
leader
.
If
you
love
a
woman
,
make
her
have
faith
in
you
.
If
you
lean
on
her
,
you
will
ruin
yourself
,
and
her
as
well.’
Lancelot
shook
his
head
.
There
was
a
pause
.
‘After
all
,
colonel
,
I
think
there
must
be
a
meaning
in
those
old
words
our
mothers
used
to
teach
us
about
“
having
faith
in
God
.
”
’
The
colonel
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
‘
Quien
sabe
?
said
the
Spanish
girl
,
when
they
asked
her
who
was
her
child’s
father
.
But
here
comes
my
kit
on
a
clod’s
back
,
and
it
is
time
to
dress
for
dinner.’
So
to
the
dinner-party
they
went
.
Lord
Minchampstead
was
one
of
the
few
noblemen
Lancelot
had
ever
met
who
had
aroused
in
him
a
thorough
feeling
of
respect
.
He
was
always
and
in
all
things
a
strong
man
.
Naturally
keen
,
ready
,
business-like
,
daring
,
he
had
carved
out
his
own
way
through
life
,
and
opened
his
oyster
—
the
world
,
neither
with
sword
nor
pen
,
but
with
steam
and
cotton
.
His
father
was
Mr.
Obadiah
Newbroom
,
of
the
well-known
manufacturing
firm
of
Newbroom
,
Stag
,
and
Playforall
.
A
stanch
Dissenter
himself
,
he
saw
with
a
slight
pang
his
son
Thomas
turn
Churchman
,
as
soon
as
the
young
man
had
worked
his
way
up
to
be
the
real
head
of
the
firm
.
But
this
was
the
only
sorrow
which
Thomas
Newbroom
,
now
Lord
Minchampstead
,
had
ever
given
his
father
.
‘I
stood
behind
a
loom
myself
,
my
boy
,
when
I
began
life
;
and
you
must
do
with
great
means
what
I
did
with
little
ones
.
I
have
made
a
gentleman
of
you
,
you
must
make
a
nobleman
of
yourself.’
Those
were
almost
the
last
words
of
the
stern
,
thrifty
,
old
Puritan
craftsman
,
and
his
son
never
forgot
them
.
From
a
mill-owner
he
grew
to
coal-owner
,
shipowner
,
banker
,
railway
director
,
money-lender
to
kings
and
princes
;
and
last
of
all
,
as
the
summit
of
his
own
and
his
compeer’s
ambition
,
to
land-owner
.
He
had
half
a
dozen
estates
in
as
many
different
counties
.
He
had
added
house
to
house
,
and
field
to
field
;
and
at
last
bought
Minchampstead
Park
and
ten
thousand
acres
,
for
two-thirds
its
real
value
,
from
that
enthusiastic
sportsman
Lord
Peu
de
Cervelle
,
whose
family
had
come
in
with
the
Conqueror
,
and
gone
out
with
George
IV
.
So
,
at
least
,
they
always
said
;
but
it
was
remarkable
that
their
name
could
never
be
traced
farther
back
than
the
dissolution
of
the
monasteries
:
and
Calumnious
Dryasdusts
would
sometimes
insolently
father
their
title
on
James
I
.
and
one
of
his
batches
of
bought
peerages
.
But
let
the
dead
bury
their
dead
.
There
was
now
a
new
lord
in
Minchampstead
;
and
every
country
Caliban
was
finding
,
to
his
disgust
,
that
he
had
‘got
a
new
master
,
’
and
must
perforce
‘be
a
new
man.’
Oh
!
how
the
squires
swore
and
the
farmers
chuckled
,
when
the
‘Parvenu’
sold
the
Minchampstead
hounds
,
and
celebrated
his
1st
of
September
by
exterminating
every
hare
and
pheasant
on
the
estate
!
How
the
farmers
swore
and
the
labourers
chuckled
when
he
took
all
the
cottages
into
his
own
hands
and
rebuilt
them
,
set
up
a
first-rate
industrial
school
,
gave
every
man
a
pig
and
a
garden
,
and
broke
up
all
the
commons
‘to
thin
the
labour-market.’
Oh
,
how
the
labourers
swore
and
the
farmers
chuckled
,
when
he
put
up
steam-engines
on
all
his
farms
,
refused
to
give
away
a
farthing
in
alms
,
and
enforced
the
new
Poor-law
to
the
very
letter
.
How
the
country
tradesmen
swore
,
when
he
called
them
‘a
pack
of
dilatory
jobbers
,
’
and
announced
his
intention
of
employing
only
London
workmen
for
his
improvements
.
Oh
!
how
they
all
swore
together
(
behind
his
back
,
of
course
,
for
his
dinners
were
worth
eating
)
,
and
the
very
ladies
said
naughty
words
,
when
the
stern
political
economist
proclaimed
at
his
own
table
that
‘he
had
bought
Minchampstead
for
merely
commercial
purposes
,
as
a
profitable
investment
of
capital
,
and
he
would
see
that
,
whatever
else
it
did
,
it
should
pay
.’
But
the
new
lord
heard
of
all
the
hard
words
with
a
quiet
self-possessed
smile
.
He
had
formed
his
narrow
theory
of
the
universe
,
and
he
was
methodically
and
conscientiously
carrying
it
out
.
True
,
too
often
,
like
poor
Keats’s
merchant
brothers
,
—
‘Half-ignorant
,
he
turned
an
easy
wheel
,
Which
set
sharp
racks
at
work
to
pinch
and
peel.’
But
of
the
harm
which
he
did
he
was
unconscious
;
in
the
good
which
he
did
he
was
consistent
and
indefatigable
;
infinitely
superior
,
with
all
his
defects
,
to
the
ignorant
,
extravagant
do-nothing
Squire
Lavingtons
around
him
.
At
heart
,
however
,
Mammoth-blinded
,
he
was
kindly
and
upright
.
A
man
of
a
stately
presence
;
a
broad
,
honest
north-country
face
;
a
high
square
forehead
,
bland
and
unwrinkled
.
I
sketch
him
here
once
for
all
,
because
I
have
no
part
for
him
after
this
scene
in
my
corps
de
ballet
.
Lord
Minchampstead
had
many
reasons
for
patronising
Lancelot
.
In
the
first
place
,
he
had
a
true
eye
for
a
strong
man
wherever
he
met
him
;
in
the
next
place
,
Lancelot’s
uncle
the
banker
,
was
a
stanch
Whig
ally
of
his
in
the
House
.
‘In
the
rotten-borough
times
,
Mr.
Smith
,
’
he
once
said
to
Lancelot
,
‘we
could
have
made
a
senator
of
you
at
once
;
but
,
for
the
sake
of
finality
,
we
were
forced
to
relinquish
that
organ
of
influence
.
The
Tories
had
abused
it
,
really
,
a
little
too
far
;
and
now
we
can
only
make
a
commissioner
of
you
—
which
,
after
all
,
is
a
more
useful
post
,
and
a
more
lucrative
one.’
But
Lancelot
had
not
as
yet
‘Galliolised
,
’
as
the
Irish
schoolmaster
used
to
call
it
,
and
cared
very
little
to
play
a
political
ninth
fiddle
.
The
first
thing
which
caught
his
eyes
as
he
entered
the
drawing-room
before
dinner
was
Argemone
listening
in
absorbed
reverence
to
her
favourite
vicar
,
—
a
stern
,
prim
,
close-shaven
,
dyspeptic
man
,
with
a
meek
,
cold
smile
,
which
might
have
become
a
cruel
one
.
He
watched
and
watched
in
vain
,
hoping
to
catch
her
eye
;
but
no
—
there
she
stood
,
and
talked
and
listened
—
‘Ah
,
’
said
Bracebridge
,
smiling
,
‘it
is
in
vain
,
Smith
!
When
did
you
know
a
woman
leave
the
Church
for
one
of
us
poor
laymen
?
’
‘Good
heavens
!
’
said
Lancelot
,
impatiently
,
‘why
will
they
make
such
fools
of
themselves
with
clergymen
?
’
‘They
are
quite
right
.
They
always
like
the
strong
men
—
the
fighters
and
the
workers
.
In
Voltaire’s
time
they
all
ran
after
the
philosophers
.
In
the
middle
ages
,
books
tell
us
,
they
worshipped
the
knights
errant
.
They
are
always
on
the
winning
side
,
the
cunning
little
beauties
.
In
the
war-time
,
when
the
soldiers
had
to
play
the
world’s
game
,
the
ladies
all
caught
the
red-coat
fever
;
now
,
in
these
talking
and
thinking
days
(
and
be
hanged
to
them
for
bores
)
,
they
have
the
black-coat
fever
for
the
same
reason
.
The
parsons
are
the
workers
now-a-days
—
or
rather
,
all
the
world
expects
them
to
be
so
.
They
have
the
game
in
their
own
hands
,
if
they
did
but
know
how
to
play
it.’
Lancelot
stood
still
,
sulking
over
many
thoughts
.
The
colonel
lounged
across
the
room
towards
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
a
quiet
,
truly
high-bred
young
man
,
with
a
sweet
open
countenance
,
and
an
ample
forehead
,
whose
size
would
have
vouched
for
great
talents
,
had
not
the
promise
been
contradicted
by
the
weakness
of
the
over-delicate
mouth
and
chin
.
‘Who
is
that
with
whom
you
came
into
the
room
,
Bracebridge
?
’
asked
Lord
Vieuxbois
.
‘I
am
sure
I
know
his
face.’
‘Lancelot
Smith
,
the
man
who
has
taken
the
shooting-box
at
Lower
Whitford.’
‘Oh
,
I
remember
him
well
enough
at
Cambridge
!
He
was
one
of
a
set
who
tried
to
look
like
blackguards
,
and
really
succeeded
tolerably
.
They
used
to
eschew
gloves
,
and
drink
nothing
but
beer
,
and
smoke
disgusting
short
pipes
;
and
when
we
established
the
Coverley
Club
in
Trinity
,
they
set
up
an
opposition
,
and
called
themselves
the
Navvies
.
And
they
used
to
make
piratical
expeditions
down
to
Lynn
in
eight
oars
,
to
attack
bargemen
,
and
fen
girls
,
and
shoot
ducks
,
and
sleep
under
turf-stacks
,
and
come
home
when
they
had
drank
all
the
public-house
taps
dry
.
I
remember
the
man
perfectly.’
‘Navvy
or
none
,
’
said
the
colonel
,
‘he
has
just
the
longest
head
and
the
noblest
heart
of
any
man
I
ever
met
.
If
he
does
not
distinguish
himself
before
he
dies
,
I
know
nothing
of
human
nature.’
‘Ah
yes
,
I
believe
he
is
clever
enough
!
—
took
a
good
degree
,
a
better
one
than
I
did
—
but
horribly
eclectic
;
full
of
mesmerism
,
and
German
metaphysics
,
and
all
that
sort
of
thing
.
I
heard
of
him
one
night
last
spring
,
on
which
he
had
been
seen
,
if
you
will
believe
it
,
going
successively
into
a
Swedenborgian
chapel
,
the
Garrick’s
Head
,
and
one
of
Elliotson’s
magnetic
soirées
.
What
can
you
expect
after
that
?
’
‘A
great
deal
,
’
said
Bracebridge
drily
.
‘With
such
a
head
as
he
carries
on
his
shoulders
the
man
might
be
another
Mirabeau
,
if
he
held
the
right
cards
in
the
right
rubber
.
And
he
really
ought
to
suit
you
,
for
he
raves
about
the
middle
ages
,
and
chivalry
,
and
has
edited
a
book
full
of
old
ballads.’
‘Oh
,
all
the
eclectics
do
that
sort
of
thing
;
and
small
thanks
to
them
.
However
,
I
will
speak
to
him
after
dinner
,
and
see
what
there
is
in
him.’
And
Lord
Vieuxbois
turned
away
,
and
,
alas
for
Lancelot
!
sat
next
to
Argemone
at
dinner
.
Lancelot
,
who
was
cross
with
everybody
for
what
was
nobody’s
fault
,
revenged
himself
all
dinner-time
by
never
speaking
a
word
to
his
next
neighbour
,
Miss
Newbroom
,
who
was
longing
with
all
her
heart
to
talk
sentiment
to
him
about
the
Exhibition
;
and
when
Argemone
,
in
the
midst
of
a
brilliant
word-skirmish
with
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
stole
a
glance
at
him
,
he
chose
to
fancy
that
they
were
both
talking
of
him
,
and
looked
more
cross
than
ever
.
After
the
ladies
retired
,
Lancelot
,
in
his
sulky
way
,
made
up
his
mind
that
the
conversation
was
going
to
be
ineffably
stupid
;
and
set
to
to
dream
,
sip
claret
,
and
count
the
minutes
till
he
found
himself
in
the
drawing-room
with
Argemone
.
But
he
soon
discovered
,
as
I
suppose
we
all
have
,
that
‘it
never
rains
but
it
pours
,
’
and
that
one
cannot
fall
in
with
a
new
fact
or
a
new
acquaintance
but
next
day
twenty
fresh
things
shall
spring
up
as
if
by
magic
,
throwing
unexpected
light
on
one’s
new
phenomenon
.
Lancelot’s
head
was
full
of
the
condition-of-the-poor
question
,
and
lo
!
everybody
seemed
destined
to
talk
about
it
.
‘Well
,
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
’
said
the
host
,
casually
,
‘my
girls
are
raving
about
your
new
school
.
They
say
it
is
a
perfect
antiquarian
gem.’
‘Yes
,
tolerable
,
I
believe
.
But
Wales
has
disappointed
me
a
little
.
That
vile
modernist
naturalism
is
creeping
back
even
into
our
painted
glass
.
I
could
have
wished
that
the
artist’s
designs
for
the
windows
had
been
a
little
more
Catholic.’
‘How
then
?
’
asked
the
host
,
with
a
puzzled
face
.
‘Oh
,
he
means
,
’
said
Bracebridge
,
‘that
the
figures’
wrists
and
ankles
were
not
sufficiently
dislocated
,
and
the
patron
saint
did
not
look
quite
like
a
starved
rabbit
with
its
neck
wrung
.
Some
of
the
faces
,
I
am
sorry
to
say
,
were
positively
like
good-looking
men
and
women.’
‘Oh
,
I
understand
,
’
said
Lord
Minchampstead
;
‘Bracebridge’s
tongue
is
privileged
,
you
know
,
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
so
you
must
not
be
angry.’
‘I
don’t
see
my
way
into
all
this
,
’
said
Squire
Lavington
(
which
was
very
likely
to
be
true
,
considering
that
he
never
looked
for
his
way
)
.
‘I
don’t
see
how
all
these
painted
windows
,
and
crosses
,
and
chanting
,
and
the
deuce
and
the
Pope
only
know
what
else
,
are
to
make
boys
any
better.’
‘We
have
it
on
the
highest
authority
,
’
said
Vieuxbois
,
‘that
pictures
and
music
are
the
books
of
the
unlearned
.
I
do
not
think
that
we
have
any
right
in
the
nineteenth
century
to
contest
an
opinion
which
the
fathers
of
the
Church
gave
in
the
fourth.’
‘At
all
events
,
’
said
Lancelot
,
‘it
is
by
pictures
and
music
,
by
art
and
song
,
and
symbolic
representations
,
that
all
nations
have
been
educated
in
their
adolescence
!
and
as
the
youth
of
the
individual
is
exactly
analogous
to
the
youth
of
the
collective
race
,
we
should
employ
the
same
means
of
instruction
with
our
children
which
succeeded
in
the
early
ages
with
the
whole
world.’
Lancelot
might
as
well
have
held
his
tongue
—
nobody
understood
him
but
Vieuxbois
,
and
he
had
been
taught
to
scent
German
neology
in
everything
,
as
some
folks
are
taught
to
scent
Jesuitry
,
especially
when
it
involved
an
inductive
law
,
and
not
a
mere
red-tape
precedent
,
and
,
therefore
,
could
not
see
that
Lancelot
was
arguing
for
him
.
‘All
very
fine
,
Smith
,
’
said
the
squire
;
‘it’s
a
pity
you
won’t
leave
off
puzzling
your
head
with
books
,
and
stick
to
fox-hunting
.
All
you
young
gentlemen
will
do
is
to
turn
the
heads
of
the
poor
with
your
cursed
education.’
The
national
oath
followed
,
of
course
.
‘Pictures
and
chanting
!
Why
,
when
I
was
a
boy
,
a
good
honest
labouring
man
wanted
to
see
nothing
better
than
a
halfpenny
ballad
,
with
a
wood-cut
at
the
top
,
and
they
worked
very
well
then
,
and
wanted
for
nothing.’
‘Oh
,
we
shall
give
them
the
halfpenny
ballads
in
time
!
’
said
Vieuxbois
,
smiling
.
‘You
will
do
a
very
good
deed
,
then
,
’
said
mine
host
.
‘But
I
am
sorry
to
say
that
,
as
far
as
I
can
find
from
my
agents
,
when
the
upper
classes
write
cheap
publications
,
the
lower
classes
will
not
read
them.’
‘Too
true
,
’
said
Vieuxbois
.
‘Is
not
the
cause
,
’
asked
Lancelot
,
‘just
that
the
upper
classes
do
write
them
?
’
‘The
writings
of
working
men
,
certainly
,
’
said
Lord
Minchampstead
,
‘have
an
enormous
sale
among
their
own
class.’
‘Just
because
they
express
the
feelings
of
that
class
,
of
which
I
am
beginning
to
fear
that
we
know
very
little
.
Look
again
,
what
a
noble
literature
of
people’s
songs
and
hymns
Germany
has
.
Some
of
Lord
Vieuxbois’s
friends
,
I
know
,
are
busy
translating
many
of
them.’
‘As
many
of
them
,
that
is
to
say
,
’
said
Vieuxbois
,
‘as
are
compatible
with
a
real
Church
spirit.’
‘Be
it
so
;
but
who
wrote
them
?
Not
the
German
aristocracy
for
the
people
,
but
the
German
people
for
themselves
.
There
is
the
secret
of
their
power
.
Why
not
educate
the
people
up
to
such
a
standard
that
they
should
be
able
to
write
their
own
literature
?
’
‘What
,
’
said
Mr.
Chalklands
,
of
Chalklands
,
who
sat
opposite
,
‘would
you
have
working
men
turn
ballad
writers
?
There
would
be
an
end
of
work
,
then
,
I
think.’
‘I
have
not
heard
,
’
said
Lancelot
,
‘that
the
young
women
—
ladies
,
I
ought
to
say
,
if
the
word
mean
anything
—
who
wrote
the
“
Lowell
Offering
,
”
spun
less
or
worse
cotton
than
their
neighbours.’
‘On
the
contrary
,
”
said
Lord
Minchampstead
,
‘we
have
the
most
noble
accounts
of
heroic
industry
and
self-sacrifice
in
girls
whose
education
,
to
judge
by
its
fruits
,
might
shame
that
of
most
English
young
ladies.’
Mr.
Chalklands
expressed
certain
confused
notions
that
,
in
America
,
factory
girls
carried
green
silk
parasols
,
put
the
legs
of
pianos
into
trousers
,
and
were
too
prudish
to
make
a
shirt
,
or
to
call
it
a
shirt
after
it
was
made
,
he
did
not
quite
remember
which
.
‘It
is
a
great
pity
,
’
said
Lord
Minchampstead
,
‘that
our
factory
girls
are
not
in
the
same
state
of
civilisation
.
But
it
is
socially
impossible
.
America
is
in
an
abnormal
state
.
In
a
young
country
the
laws
of
political
economy
do
not
make
themselves
fully
felt
.
Here
,
where
we
have
no
uncleared
world
to
drain
the
labour-market
,
we
may
pity
and
alleviate
the
condition
of
the
working-classes
,
but
we
can
do
nothing
more
.
All
the
modern
schemes
for
the
amelioration
which
ignore
the
laws
of
competition
,
must
end
either
in
pauperisation’
—
(
with
a
glance
at
Lord
Vieuxbois
)
,
—
‘or
in
the
destruction
of
property.’
Lancelot
said
nothing
,
but
thought
the
more
.
It
did
strike
him
at
the
moment
that
the
few
might
,
possibly
,
be
made
for
the
many
,
and
not
the
many
for
the
few
;
and
that
property
was
made
for
man
,
not
man
for
property
.
But
he
contented
himself
with
asking
,
—
‘You
think
,
then
,
my
lord
,
that
in
the
present
state
of
society
,
no
dead-lift
can
be
given
to
the
condition
—
in
plain
English
,
the
wages
—
of
working
men
,
without
the
destruction
of
property
?
’
Lord
Minchampstead
smiled
,
and
parried
the
question
.
‘There
may
be
other
dead-lift
ameliorations
,
my
young
friend
,
besides
a
dead-lift
of
wages.’
So
Lancelot
thought
,
also
;
but
Lord
Minchampstead
would
have
been
a
little
startled
could
he
have
seen
Lancelot’s
notion
of
a
dead-lift
.
Lord
Minchampstead
was
thinking
of
cheap
bread
and
sugar
.
Do
you
think
that
I
will
tell
you
of
what
Lancelot
was
thinking
?
But
here
Vieuxbois
spurred
in
to
break
a
last
lance
.
He
had
been
very
much
disgusted
with
the
turn
the
conversation
was
taking
,
for
he
considered
nothing
more
heterodox
than
the
notion
that
the
poor
were
to
educate
themselves
.
In
his
scheme
,
of
course
the
clergy
and
the
gentry
were
to
educate
the
poor
,
who
were
to
take
down
thankfully
as
much
as
it
was
thought
proper
to
give
them
:
and
all
beyond
was
‘self-will’
and
‘private
judgment
,
’
the
fathers
of
Dissent
and
Chartism
,
Trades’-union
strikes
,
and
French
Revolutions
,
et
si
qua
alia
.
‘And
pray
,
Mr.
Smith
,
may
I
ask
what
limit
you
would
put
to
education
?
’
‘The
capacities
of
each
man
,
’
said
Lancelot
.
‘If
man
living
in
civilised
society
has
one
right
which
he
can
demand
it
is
this
,
that
the
State
which
exists
by
his
labour
shall
enable
him
to
develop
,
or
,
at
least
,
not
hinder
his
developing
,
his
whole
faculties
to
their
very
utmost
,
however
lofty
that
may
be
.
While
a
man
who
might
be
an
author
remains
a
spade-drudge
,
or
a
journeyman
while
he
has
capacities
for
a
master
;
while
any
man
able
to
rise
in
life
remains
by
social
circumstances
lower
than
he
is
willing
to
place
himself
,
that
man
has
a
right
to
complain
of
the
State’s
injustice
and
neglect.’
‘Really
,
I
do
not
see
,
’
said
Vieuxbois
,
‘why
people
should
wish
to
rise
in
life
.
They
had
no
such
self-willed
fancy
in
the
good
old
times
.
The
whole
notion
is
a
product
of
these
modern
days
—
’
He
would
have
said
more
,
but
he
luckily
remembered
at
whose
table
he
was
sitting
.
‘I
think
,
honestly
,
’
said
Lancelot
,
whose
blood
was
up
,
‘that
we
gentlemen
all
run
into
the
same
fallacy
.
We
fancy
ourselves
the
fixed
and
necessary
element
in
society
,
to
which
all
others
are
to
accommodate
themselves
.
“
Given
the
rights
of
the
few
rich
,
to
find
the
condition
of
the
many
poor
.
”
It
seems
to
me
that
other
postulate
is
quite
as
fair
:
“
Given
the
rights
of
the
many
poor
,
to
find
the
condition
of
the
few
rich
.
”
’
Lord
Minchampstead
laughed
.
‘If
you
hit
us
so
hard
,
Mr.
Smith
,
I
must
really
denounce
you
as
a
Communist
.
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
shall
we
join
the
ladies
?
’
In
the
drawing-room
,
poor
Lancelot
,
after
rejecting
overtures
of
fraternity
from
several
young
ladies
,
set
himself
steadily
again
against
the
wall
to
sulk
and
watch
Argemone
.
But
this
time
she
spied
in
a
few
minutes
his
melancholy
,
moonstruck
face
,
swam
up
to
him
,
and
said
something
kind
and
commonplace
.
She
spoke
in
the
simplicity
of
her
heart
,
but
he
chose
to
think
she
was
patronising
him
—
she
had
not
talked
commonplaces
to
the
vicar
.
He
tried
to
say
something
smart
and
cutting
,
—
stuttered
,
broke
down
,
blushed
,
and
shrank
back
again
to
the
wall
,
fancying
that
every
eye
in
the
room
was
on
him
;
and
for
one
moment
a
flash
of
sheer
hatred
to
Argemone
swept
through
him
.
Was
Argemone
patronising
him
?
Of
course
she
was
.
True
,
she
was
but
three-and-twenty
,
and
he
was
of
the
same
age
;
but
,
spiritually
and
socially
,
the
girl
develops
ten
years
earlier
than
the
boy
.
She
was
flattered
and
worshipped
by
gray-headed
men
,
and
in
her
simplicity
she
thought
it
a
noble
self-sacrifice
to
stoop
to
notice
the
poor
awkward
youth
.
And
yet
if
he
could
have
seen
the
pure
moonlight
of
sisterly
pity
which
filled
all
her
heart
as
she
retreated
,
with
something
of
a
blush
and
something
of
a
sigh
,
and
her
heart
fluttered
and
fell
,
would
he
have
been
content
?
Not
he
.
It
was
her
love
he
wanted
,
and
not
her
pity
;
it
was
to
conquer
her
and
possess
her
,
and
inform
himself
with
her
image
,
and
her
with
his
own
;
though
as
yet
he
did
not
know
it
;
though
the
moment
that
she
turned
away
he
cursed
himself
for
selfish
vanity
,
and
moroseness
and
conceit
.
‘Who
am
I
to
demand
her
all
to
myself
?
Her
,
the
glorious
,
the
saintly
,
the
unfallen
!
Is
not
a
look
,
a
word
,
infinitely
more
than
I
deserve
?
And
yet
I
pretend
to
admire
tales
of
chivalry
!
Old
knightly
hearts
would
have
fought
and
wandered
for
years
to
earn
a
tithe
of
the
favours
which
have
been
bestowed
on
me
unasked.’
—
Peace
!
poor
Lancelot
!
Thy
egg
is
by
no
means
addle
;
but
the
chick
is
breaking
the
shell
in
somewhat
a
cross-grained
fashion
.
CHAPTER
VII
:
THE
DRIVE
HOME
,
AND
WHAT
CAME
OF
IT
Now
it
was
not
extraordinary
that
Squire
Lavington
had
‘assimilated’
a
couple
of
bottles
of
Carbonel’s
best
port
;
for
however
abstemious
the
new
lord
himself
might
be
,
he
felt
for
the
habits
,
and
for
the
vote
of
an
old-fashioned
Whig
squire
.
Nor
was
it
extraordinary
that
he
fell
fast
asleep
the
moment
he
got
into
the
carriage
;
nor
,
again
,
that
his
wife
and
daughters
were
not
solicitous
about
waking
him
;
nor
,
on
the
other
hand
,
that
the
coachman
and
footman
,
who
were
like
all
the
squire’s
servants
,
of
the
good
old
sort
,
honest
,
faithful
,
boozing
,
extravagant
,
happy-go-lucky
souls
,
who
had
‘been
about
the
place
these
forty
years
,
’
were
somewhat
owlish
and
unsteady
on
the
box
.
Nor
was
it
extraordinary
that
there
was
a
heavy
storm
of
lightning
,
for
that
happened
three
times
a-week
in
the
chalk
hills
the
summer
through
;
nor
,
again
,
that
under
these
circumstances
the
horses
,
who
were
of
the
squire’s
own
breeding
,
and
never
thoroughly
broke
(
nothing
was
done
thoroughly
at
Whitford
)
,
went
rather
wildly
home
,
and
that
the
carriage
swung
alarmingly
down
the
steep
hills
,
and
the
boughs
brushed
the
windows
rather
too
often
.
But
it
was
extraordinary
that
Mrs.
Lavington
had
cast
off
her
usual
primness
,
and
seemed
to-night
,
for
the
first
time
in
her
life
,
in
an
exuberant
good
humour
,
which
she
evinced
by
snubbing
her
usual
favourite
Honoria
,
and
lavishing
caresses
on
Argemone
,
whose
vagaries
she
usually
regarded
with
a
sort
of
puzzled
terror
,
like
a
hen
who
has
hatched
a
duckling
.
‘Honoria
,
take
your
feet
off
my
dress
.
Argemone
,
my
child
,
I
hope
you
spent
a
pleasant
evening
?
’
Argemone
answered
by
some
tossy
commonplace
.
A
pause
—
and
then
Mrs.
Lavington
recommenced
,
—
‘How
very
pleasing
that
poor
young
Lord
Vieuxbois
is
,
after
all
!
’
‘I
thought
you
disliked
him
so
much.’
‘His
opinions
,
my
child
;
but
we
must
hope
for
the
best
.
He
seems
moral
and
well
inclined
,
and
really
desirous
of
doing
good
in
his
way
;
and
so
successful
in
the
House
,
too
,
I
hear.’
‘To
me
,
’
said
Argemone
,
‘he
seems
to
want
life
,
originality
,
depth
,
everything
that
makes
a
great
man
.
He
knows
nothing
but
what
he
has
picked
up
ready-made
from
books
.
After
all
,
his
opinions
are
the
one
redeeming
point
in
him.’
‘Ah
,
my
dear
,
when
it
pleases
Heaven
to
open
your
eyes
,
you
will
see
as
I
do
!
’
Poor
Mrs.
Lavington
!
Unconscious
spokeswoman
for
the
ninety-nine
hundredths
of
the
human
race
!
What
are
we
all
doing
from
morning
to
night
,
but
setting
up
our
own
fancies
as
the
measure
of
all
heaven
and
earth
,
and
saying
,
each
in
his
own
dialect
,
Whig
,
Radical
,
or
Tory
,
Papist
or
Protestant
,
‘When
it
pleases
Heaven
to
open
your
eyes
you
will
see
as
I
do’
?
‘It
is
a
great
pity
,
’
went
on
Mrs.
Lavington
,
meditatively
,
‘to
see
a
young
man
so
benighted
and
thrown
away
.
With
his
vast
fortune
,
too
—
such
a
means
of
good
!
Really
we
ought
to
have
seen
a
little
more
of
him
.
I
think
Mr.
O’Blareaway’s
conversation
might
be
a
blessing
to
him
.
I
think
of
asking
him
over
to
stay
a
week
at
Whitford
,
to
meet
that
sainted
young
man.’
Now
Argemone
did
not
think
the
Reverend
Panurgus
O’Blareaway
,
incumbent
of
Lower
Whitford
,
at
all
a
sainted
young
man
,
but
,
on
the
contrary
,
a
very
vulgar
,
slippery
Irishman
;
and
she
had
,
somehow
,
tired
of
her
late
favourite
,
Lord
Vieuxbois
;
so
she
answered
tossily
enough
,
—
‘Really
,
mamma
,
a
week
of
Lord
Vieuxbois
will
be
too
much
.
We
shall
be
bored
to
death
with
the
Cambridge
Camden
Society
,
and
ballads
for
the
people.’
‘I
think
,
my
dear
,
’
said
Mrs.
Lavington
(
who
had
,
half
unconsciously
to
herself
,
more
reasons
than
one
for
bringing
the
young
lord
to
Whitford
)
,
‘I
think
,
my
dear
,
that
his
conversation
,
with
all
its
faults
,
will
be
a
very
improving
change
for
your
father
.
I
hope
he’s
asleep.’
The
squire’s
nose
answered
for
itself
.
‘Really
,
what
between
Mr.
Smith
,
and
Colonel
Bracebridge
,
and
their
very
ineligible
friend
,
Mr.
Mellot
,
whom
I
should
never
have
allowed
to
enter
my
house
if
I
had
suspected
his
religious
views
,
the
place
has
become
a
hotbed
of
false
doctrine
and
heresy
.
I
have
been
quite
frightened
when
I
have
heard
their
conversation
at
dinner
,
lest
the
footmen
should
turn
infidels
!
’
‘Perhaps
,
mamma
,
’
said
Honoria
,
slyly
,
‘Lord
Vieuxbois
might
convert
them
to
something
quite
as
bad
.
How
shocking
if
old
Giles
,
the
butler
,
should
turn
Papist
!
’
‘Honoria
,
you
are
very
silly
.
Lord
Vieuxbois
,
at
least
can
be
trusted
.
He
has
no
liking
for
low
companions
.
He
is
above
joking
with
grooms
,
and
taking
country
walks
with
gamekeepers.’
It
was
lucky
that
it
was
dark
,
for
Honoria
and
Argemone
both
blushed
crimson
.
‘Your
poor
father’s
mind
has
been
quite
unsettled
by
all
their
ribaldry
.
They
have
kept
him
so
continually
amused
,
that
all
my
efforts
to
bring
him
to
a
sense
of
his
awful
state
have
been
more
unavailing
than
ever.’
Poor
Mrs.
Lavington
!
She
had
married
,
at
eighteen
,
a
man
far
her
inferior
in
intellect
;
and
had
become
—
as
often
happens
in
such
cases
—
a
prude
and
a
devotee
.
The
squire
,
who
really
admired
and
respected
her
,
confined
his
disgust
to
sly
curses
at
the
Methodists
(
under
which
name
he
used
to
include
every
species
of
religious
earnestness
,
from
Quakerism
to
that
of
Mr.
Newman
)
.
Mrs.
Lavington
used
at
first
to
dignify
these
disagreeables
by
the
name
of
persecution
,
and
now
she
was
trying
to
convert
the
old
man
by
coldness
,
severity
,
and
long
curtain-lectures
,
utterly
unintelligible
to
their
victim
,
because
couched
in
the
peculiar
conventional
phraseology
of
a
certain
school
.
She
forgot
,
poor
earnest
soul
,
that
the
same
form
of
religion
which
had
captivated
a
disappointed
girl
of
twenty
,
might
not
be
the
most
attractive
one
for
a
jovial
old
man
of
sixty
.
Argemone
,
who
a
fortnight
before
would
have
chimed
in
with
all
her
mother’s
lamentations
,
now
felt
a
little
nettled
and
jealous
.
She
could
not
bear
to
hear
Lancelot
classed
with
the
colonel
.
‘Indeed
,
’
she
said
,
‘if
amusement
is
bad
for
my
father
,
he
is
not
likely
to
get
much
of
it
during
Lord
Vieuxbois’s
stay
.
But
,
of
course
,
mamma
,
you
will
do
as
you
please.’
‘Of
course
I
shall
,
my
dear
,
’
answered
the
good
lady
,
in
a
tragedy-queen
tone
.
‘I
shall
only
take
the
liberty
of
adding
,
that
it
is
very
painful
to
me
to
find
you
adding
to
the
anxiety
which
your
unfortunate
opinions
give
me
,
by
throwing
every
possible
obstacle
in
the
way
of
my
plans
for
your
good.’
Argemone
burst
into
proud
tears
(
she
often
did
so
after
a
conversation
with
her
mother
)
.
‘Plans
for
my
good
!
’
—
And
an
unworthy
suspicion
about
her
mother
crossed
her
mind
,
and
was
peremptorily
expelled
again
.
What
turn
the
conversation
would
have
taken
next
,
I
know
not
,
but
at
that
moment
Honoria
and
her
mother
uttered
a
fearful
shriek
,
as
their
side
of
the
carriage
jolted
half-way
up
the
bank
,
and
stuck
still
in
that
pleasant
position
.
The
squire
awoke
,
and
the
ladies
simultaneously
clapped
their
hands
to
their
ears
,
knowing
what
was
coming
.
He
thrust
his
head
out
of
the
window
,
and
discharged
a
broadside
of
at
least
ten
pounds’
worth
of
oaths
(
Bow
Street
valuation
)
at
the
servants
,
who
were
examining
the
broken
wheel
,
with
a
side
volley
or
two
at
Mrs.
Lavington
for
being
frightened
.
He
often
treated
her
and
Honoria
to
that
style
of
oratory
.
At
Argemone
he
had
never
sworn
but
once
since
she
left
the
nursery
,
and
was
so
frightened
at
the
consequences
,
that
he
took
care
never
to
do
it
again
.
But
there
they
were
fast
,
with
a
broken
wheel
,
plunging
horses
,
and
a
drunken
coachman
.
Luckily
for
them
,
the
colonel
and
Lancelot
were
following
close
behind
,
and
came
to
their
assistance
.
The
colonel
,
as
usual
,
solved
the
problem
.
‘Your
dog-cart
will
carry
four
,
Smith
?
’
‘It
will.’
‘Then
let
the
ladies
get
