That important person, Miss Flossie Wardlaw, was extremely angry! Events were interfering with her plan of life, and upsetting all her theories of fitness. The preoccupation, the infatuation, shown by the only other member of her family for something outside domestic life was too exasperating. That tiresome fort at Dover was absorbing all her father's thoughts. He grew paler and more haggard day by day, bestowing less and less attention on the far more important interests that concerned his little daughter and the familiar programme of her daily life. Flossie told herself that she was not unreasonable. She had been quite ready to make allowances. Alarming things, she knew, had happened close at hand. Impudent foreigners had seized Fort Warden by stealth. The ceaseless boom of the big guns disturbed the current of existence in the bungalow. Things were tiresome; indeed, quite worrying when they kept on like that! It was dreadful, that Englishmen, her father's soldier-friends, should be killed by foreigners—killed in England too, only ten miles away; usually they were only killed a long way off, and that seemed different. But, of course, it could only end in one way; the offenders would be turned out and most severely punished. Meanwhile, the[Pg 135] repeated and prolonged absence of her father at Dover, and his preoccupied behaviour when he was at home, filled Flossie with mixed feelings of annoyance and sympathy, in which the former ingredient became more and more predominant. Her queenly power seemed to be undermined. Her faithful subject had deserted her. Oh! that horrid Fort!
Miss Flossie nursed the personal sense of injury, and husbanded her growing grievance, to the exclusion of thoughts concerning the national questions that arose. So much depends upon the point of view; and that, in turn, so much depends upon one's age.
Nevertheless, the issues of the struggle at Fort Warden were vitally important. They riveted the attention of many millions of the population of the world. Here in England itself the seizure of the fort had assumed a colossal significance, shaking the nation out of the ever-narrowing grooves of Parliamentary and municipal party conflict, compelling men to look back to a great history and forward to an era of littleness that gave pause even to the most selfish and complacent.
Cost what it might, the enemy must be driven out. Our Flag must wave above that fort again.
A spreading feeling of fury and resentment arose against the Government. To this complexion had we come! Pushing politicians, self-seeking wire-pullers of both sexes, had dragged England in the dust. So much for Petticoat Government! So much for the Amazonian craze, this make-believe of women-soldiers and girl-gunners. Woman had largely ousted man from place and power, and this was the result! A handful of foreigners had been emboldened to assail us on our own sacred soil.[Pg 136] Popular anger expressed itself afresh by breaking out viciously into the old doggerel:—
"Old Nick and the Cat,
With Johnnie and Jan,
Have brought poor England
Under a ban!"
Truly, Man was needed at the helm to which at this crisis woman clung so obstinately. Man was wanted in his old authority, and, behold! in every department of control woman was clinging to his coat-tails, hindering his action, dividing his counsels, prating of peace when there could be no peace, and exhibiting a rudimentary unfitness to grapple with an unprecedented and desperate situation.
The outcry came not from the men alone, but with increasing vehemence from the very sex that had struggled for supremacy. Women out of office—necessarily the vast majority—now began to discover that those aggressive or more fortunate representatives of their sex who had obtained salaried posts or prominence of some sort in public life, were in many cases frauds and failures. This rule of woman that had come to pass was not what the great mass of her sex had contemplated or intended. They confessed it to husbands and brothers; and husbands and brothers nodded in wise and ready acquiescence. Their faces plainly said: "I told you so."
Thousands of women ruefully admitted the impeachment. Successful rivalry—mostly vicarious—had brought them no real joy. They had gained power and lost love; and in their inmost hearts they knew that love was worth the world. Always it had been part of woman's character to strive for her own way, and always she had ended by despising the man who permitted her to gain it. Yes! woman's collective triumph in this new age, as she[Pg 137] now sadly realised, had cost her dear. With the gradual abandonment of man's protective affection had gone the true ingredients of her happiness; much that made up the grace and joy of life, tenderness and chivalry, caressing mastery, the rightful dominance of the stronger sex. Yes! love was worth the world.
The heel of woman disclosed her weakness—and revealed her strength. Fool and blind! grasping at the sceptre she had lost the kingdom; the kingdom of the heart, encircled and protected by the strong arms of a lover as the guardian-sea encircles England's shores. Like an electric spark this spirit of regret and discontent flew through the land. A little more, and it would mean a revolution. Away with the unnatural dominion of Woman! Back to the reign of Man!
It would have been idle to expect unanimity where pride and personal interest were so closely involved. The pushing leaders of social democracy and the Vice-President and her following were not likely to submit without a struggle to the restoration of hereditary authority. Woman in office and power throughout the State would be sure to cling desperately to her foothold, and no one could yet foresee the outcome of the swiftly dawning struggle.
The hands of a little band of energetic men, however, were busy throwing wide the floodgates, and no two men were more active than those veterans, one of the army, and the other of the law—General Hartwell and Sir Robert Herrick. To them it seemed that the signs of the times were full of deep significance, and pregnant with the highest hopes. They knew that there were still some men with grit in England, men who saw with bitter wr............