The Rise of Henry Morcar (12 page)

“I shall have to have one of my own, Mother,” apologised Harry.

“Well, Harry, you deserve one,” said Mrs. Morcar with a sudden sprightly staunchness. “And you can afford it.”

Harry was responsible for supervising the decorations at this dance, being chairman of the decoration sub-committee; the arrangements of the palms in the pots, the pink and silver design on the programmes, the flowers on the supper-tables to match, were all considered most successful and charming—a good background, too, for the frocks of the gigglers.

Charlie of course was a brilliant dancer, Morcar modestly competent. Winnie was too restless to make Morcar a comfortable dance-partner; full of verve and go, she waltzed him round faster than he intended and pushed and pulled him vehemently through round dances. In spite of this they danced a good deal together; she was Charlie's sister, he was Charlie's friend. Morcar took a mild revenge on her by swinging her completely off her feet whenever the Lancers gave him the opportunity. Winnie was slight in build, light in weight; a lift of Morcar's powerful arms sent her flying helplessly through the air. He could not quite make out whether she liked to be taken off her feet or no; for his part he rather enjoyed doing it and continued the practice. She had a certain evening frock, pale blue satin with an overskirt of flowered ninon, which billowed wildly on these occasions; it became a family joke, expected, licensed, for Morcar to give this frock a gleeful sideways glance as he stood before her writing his name on her programme.

“Now, Harry,” Winnie adminished him: “You'd better not take any Lancers.”

Of course he took a couple. As the relevant figure of the dance approached, he solemnly unbuttoned his white kid gloves (leaving them on his hands, however) lest the necessary muscular effort should tear the buttonholes. Winnie at once became uneasy.

“Now, Harry,” she urged, turning up to him her perky little face and gleaming hazel eyes: “Don't let us have any nonsense about taking me off my feet tonight, if you please.”

“I'm not making any promises,” replied Morcar mildly, smiling.

The music started; the circles formed; in a moment Winnie was flying shrieking through the air, supported only by Morcar's arm grasping her. Afterwards, restored to earth, she scolded him while patting her hair, retrieving hairpins, settling her ruffled frock. When they were all children together, reflected Morcar, Winnie seemed far older than Charlie or himself because there was a twelvemonth between them; now he was quite on her level and unafraid of her sharp witticisms.

This was because he was a successful business man now, no doubt. That year he had made rather a hit with an attractive “step” pattern showing zig-zag lines of colour, and Mr. Shaw had murmured something about a possible partnership. True, he had immediately qualified his offer by relegating it to some indefinite period in the future, but the offer had at least been mentioned, and Charlie would not allow it to be forgotten. Morcar felt he was really doing well. Only that night, before he came out to the dance, he had been urging his mother again, as he often did nowadays, to move into a better house, or get some woman to help her with the housework, or give up some of her sewing classes. She could afford to take life easier now that her son was doing so well. Mrs. Morcar as usual refused his suggestions.

“I don't want you to spend your money on me, Harry,” she said. “You must save it for when you want to get married.”

“Married? Me?” said Harry, laughing. “That won't happen for a while.”

Indeed he was not greatly interested in girls at this time. Even without the continual enlightenment offered by Charlie on the subject, he was fully aware of the uses to which girls could be put, but had never yet seen a girl who tempted him to think of her in that connection. It was agreeable when dancing to hold a light warm armful, agreeable to put one's strength at a girl's disposal, to help her carry something heavy, to offer her tennis balls with which to begin service or help her over a stile. But to retire with girls into dark corners as Charlie did, to encircle their waists and kiss them and whisper into their ears, seemed to Morcar a tedious and meaningless occupation. As for any association of a darker and more mercenary kind, Morcar thought that such possibilities existed in great cities but not in Annotsfield; in any case, the idea that he or anyone he knew might be involved with such wickedness never entered his head. The proper procedure between the sexes was as follows: One met at tennis, fell in love, got engaged for three years while one saved and began to buy a house through the Building Society, then married. Some
people were known as flirts, of course. Admired by their contemporaries, they were scolded by parents from time to time but no great harm was thought of them, for Annotsfield flirtations in the second decade of the twentieth century were conducted with a decent mildness. Charlie was a flirt and liked girls, Winnie was a flirt and liked boys. Well, let them enjoy themselves. Morcar did not object, so long as he was not called upon to share their pleasures.

These never seemed to last long with either of them. Charlie talked to him of a fresh girl almost every week and he had long since lost count of Winnie's innumerable admirers, but neither of them seemed to be thinking of getting engaged. Morcar hoped that none of them would marry for a while yet. He was prepared to accept with solemn loyalty any girl whom Charlie chose to be his wife, and to tolerate the ass whom Winnie, with her habitual perversity, was almost certain to pick on for a husband, but he hoped the necessity would not arise for a few years yet. Marriage would break up their present way of life, complicate their present relationship, and life in this winter of 1913 seemed to him straightforward, pleasant, satisfying, just as it was.

Time of Tension
, read Morcar on a summer morning in July.
Europe's Peril. War Clouds Loom. In his rescript the Austrian Emperor recalled that Austria first exerted influence in Bosnia and Herzegovina.… Servia was never reconciled to the forcing of German and Magyar sovereignty over peoples mainly Slav in origin. Nor was Russia ever reconciled to the annexation of the two Slav states … a desire to inflict a blow on the prestige of Russia.…

What on earth was it all about? What in heaven's name was a rescript? Where were Bosnia and Herzegovina? Who were the Slavs?

Morcar got his father's old atlas down from his mother's bedroom, spread it out on the table and went solemnly through the leading article, laying his finger on each place in the map as it was named. At the end he had received a strong impression that a large country (Austria-Hungary) was. bullying a small one of different race (Servia) just because some prince or other (Morcar had no use for foreign royalties) had been assassinated in their territory; Russia belonged to the same race as Servia and felt elder-brotherly towards her. So far some sense could be made of it, he thought; but then the paper seemed to say that Germany was supporting Austria because Germany wanted to inflict a blow on the prestige of Russia, and France supporting Russia because she feared a German victory would gain Germany too much prestige.

“Prestige,” thought Morcar, pulling a face. “What bunkum!”

Sir Edward Grey proposes a Conference of Ambassadors in London
. Very sensible.
But it is not likely to be acceptable, owing to Austria's extreme exasperation. This is the third time in half a dozen years that Austria has mobilised against Servia, and she is determined that this shall be the last
.

“Well, upon my soul!” said Morcar. “Servia might be exasperated as well, I should say.”

Next morning his newspaper told him that Austria had declared war on Servia and begun to fight, Russia was excited, Sir Edward Grey was still trying to localise the conflict, Germany had declined to participate in the proposed conference because she thought it offered no hope of success.
Austria cannot appear before an European tribunal like a Balkan State, say the Germans
.

“Why not?” said Morcar, vexed. “Surely there should be one law for all Powers, great or small.”

The Powers, urges Germany, being well aware that Servia deserves chastisement, should be content to stand aside
.

“Chastisement?” said Morcar, colouring. “I don't care for that word.”

On Thursday he learned that Russia had mobilised, but
there is no suggestion of panic or craven fear amongst the British
.

“I should think not, indeed!” said Morcar impatiently.

On Friday, the Servian capital was in flames.

“Well, it's a shame,” said Morcar.

Germany had asked Russia to explain her mobilisation; Russia doubted Germany's sincerity in making her request.

“I'm not surprised,” said Morcar.

The persistent unanimity of the bland responses made by Austria-Hungary and Germany to Russia's despairing appeals for a hearing compels the unwilling conclusion that all this diplomatic effort has been merely by-play to gain time
.

“It's a put-up job. I could have told them that some time ago,” was Morcar's comment.

In England, there was to be a party truce, so that the tiresome fuss about Home Rule, for Ireland would subside for a time.
LIBERAL AND LABOUR OPPOSITION TO ENTANGLEMENT: We wish to enter an emphatic protest against an attempt to make it appear that Great Britain is bound to enter the impending struggle. … An island, she can remain unmoved by the storms that may sweep over the Continent
.

“I wonder,” said Morcar thoughtfully.

On Monday, Germany declared war on Russia. Over the weekend, German troops had already occupied Luxemburg.

“I wish they'd leave those small countries alone. Aren't there any treaties to protect them?” said Morcar uneasily.

France, it seemed, was mobilising.

“Well, you can hardly blame her, can you?” said Morcar.

On Tuesday, it seemed Sir Edward Grey had sent a note to Germany requesting an assurance that the neutrality of Belgium would be respected.

“Quite right,” said Morcar with relief.

We must, in the opinion of the Foreign Secretary, defend against the invader the neutrality of Belgium, which we are pledged by treaty to respect
.

“I should think so!” said Morcar.

The bond of honour is one which will appeal more strongly to Englishmen than Sir Edward Grey's vision of German domination over the whole west of Europe
.

“Yes. But you have to think of that too,” said Morcar: “Since they're the kind of people who regard treaties as mere scraps of paper, you know.”

Owing to the summary rejection by the German Government of the request made by His Majesty's Government for the assurance that the neutrality of Belgium will be respected … a state of war exists between Great Britain and Germany as from 11 p.m. on August 4th, 1914
.

“Nothing else to be done,” said Morcar soberly.

What did one do in a war? Let's see, now, reflected Morcar; there was a war in South Africa when he was ten. That, he understood, had been a wicked war; good Liberals like his father had strongly disapproved. But Morcar could not remember that a war made any difference to ordinary life in Annotsfield. He went soberly down to Prospect Mills and found Mr. Shaw quivering with rage against the Jingoes who, he said, pushed Great Britain into the war.

“Nay, Mr. Shaw, I don't see what else we could do,” said Morcar.

“It was nothing to do with us, it wasn't our business, we've been shoved into it by those damned Tories,” shouted Mr. Shaw.

“Well, it won't be you who'll have to do the fighting, Father, so you needn't worry,” said Charlie.

“You daft young idiot!” exploded Mr. Shaw. “What do you think a European war will do to trade? They're saying in Annotsfield that two-thirds of the operatives won't be needed.”

“It's not the time to think of trade,” said Charlie shortly.

“The heavy woollen trade will be all right,” mused Mr. Shaw. “They make khaki for the Army.”

“But surely the Army's fitted up already, isn't it?” said Morcar.

“They'll need more soldiers than they've got, I expect,” said Mr. Shaw shrewdly. “Such nonsense! Land-owning Jingoes! That Lord Kitchener has been appointed Secretary for War—I bet he'll ask for a bigger Army.”

This prophecy, to Morcar's astonishment, was soon fulfilled, for before the week was out Kitchener had called for a hundred thousand men immediately, and Parliament had voted an increase of half a million. Meanwhile the Territorials were all mobilised; the Irebridge batch marched through the streets to Annotsfield station, passing the top of Prospect Street on the way. One of the new girl typists called Morcar's attention to this by rushing out of the mill, crying: “They're coming! I can hear the drum!” It seemed she had a young man amongst their number. Morcar followed her out and stood at the corner of the street and watched the hundred men go by. At their head marched three or four officers, amongst whom Morcar with mixed feelings perceived Francis Oldroyd. Just as they drew level with Prospect Street the men began to sing
It's a Long Way to Tipperary
—the
words had nothing whatever to do with the war, but the tune was a good one to march to, thought Morcar.

“It makes you feel you ought to be in it yourself,” he said uneasily to Mr. Shaw as he described the scene.

“Oldroyds can afford it, we can't,” snapped Mr. Shaw. “We're going to have a hard time keeping things going here.”

All the same, thought Morcar, he would like to have gone with the Havercake lads—especially when the drums rolled and the band played:
Empress of the Wave
. Gould he go? Recruits, according to the
Annotsfield Record
, were coming forward nobly. But what would his mother live on while he was away? And if you once got into the Army did you ever get out of it? How did you actually fight? What was one in fact expected to do during a war? He wished to do his duty, but had no idea where it lay. The newspaper carried a special panel one day headed
THE WAR AND COMMERCE
, informing him that non-combatants would best help to beat the Germans by maintaining and cultivating resources at home.
It is the duty of everyone not with the fighting forces to do what he can to promote the country's commerce and to revive business as usual
. But Morcar did not feel quite so sure.…