England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction
Lady Ludlow was proud of her personal superintendence of her own
estate. She liked to tell us how her father used to take her with him
in his rides, and bid her observe this and that, and on no account
to allow such and such things to be done. But I have heard that the
first time she told all this to Captain James, he told her point-blank
that he had heard from Mr. Smithson that the farms were much neglected
and the rents sadly behindhand, and that he meant to set to in good
earnest and study agriculture, and see how he could remedy the state
of things. My lady would, I am sure, be greatly surprised, but what
could she do? Here was the very man she had chosen herself, setting to
with all his energy to conquer the defect of ignorance, which was all
that those who had presumed to offer her ladyship advice had ever had
to say against him. Captain James read Arthur Young’s “Tours” in all
his spare time, as long as he was an invalid; and shook his head at my
lady’s accounts as to how the land had been cropped or left fallow from
time immemorial. Then he set to, and tried too many new experiments at
once. My lady looked on in dignified silence; but all the farmers and
tenants were in an uproar, and prophesied a hundred failures. Perhaps
fifty did occur; they were only half as many as Lady Ludlow had feared;
but they were twice as many, four, eight times as many as the captain
had anticipated. His openly-expressed disappointment made him popular
again. The rough country people could not have understood silent and
dignified regret at the failure of his plans, but they sympathized
with a man who swore at his ill success—sympathized, even while they
chuckled over his discomfiture. Mr. Brooke, the retired tradesman, did
not cease blaming him for not succeeding, and for swearing. “But what
could you expect from a sailor?” Mr. Brooke asked, even in my lady’s
hearing; though he might have known Captain James was my lady’s own
personal choice, from the old friendship Mr. Urian had always shown for
him. I think it was this speech of the Birmingham baker’s that made
my lady determine to stand by Captain James, and encourage him to try
again. For she would not allow that her choice had been an unwise one,
at the bidding (as it were) of a dissenting tradesman; the only person
in the neighbourhood, too, who had flaunted about in coloured clothes,
when all the world was in mourning for my lady’s only son.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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