Sarum - Edward Rutherfurd [602]
So it came about that, in the 1880s, the people of Sarum were suddenly aware that in the empty region to the south west, something very strange was happening.
First, parts of the estate were thrown open to the public and pleasure grounds set out with picnic sites, swings and a bandstand. There were fireworks displays and hired singers; and the public was encouraged to use bicycles by the great man in order to reach these pleasures. But, in a sense, these activities were only a lure. For Pitt-Rivers had two serious missions in life. One was the pursuit of archaeology; the other was the education of the people. It was the museum he built at Cranborne Chase that was the key to it all.
Jane had never been there and Porters was eager to show her everything. He showed her where the general had found and excavated a farm of Roman times; he showed her an opened barrow, from a still earlier period. But his excitement rose to its most intense when he brought her to the latest excavation: for here, as though cut through in cross-section by a knife, lay, in all its perfection, the carefully constructed agger of the great Roman road to the south west.
“He’s found a staging post,” Porters explained, pointing to the area most recently laid bare. “He’s found drains, coins . . . a treasure trove.” His face was shining as he remembered his own more modest finds in the old water channels years before. Those had all been placed in the little museum in St Ann Street now, but the Salisbury museum was small compared to the general’s.
He led her round it as proudly as if it were his own. Painting, pottery, crafts, agricultural implements: it was a huge collection already. But it was not only the size of it that impressed Porters.
“See the way he has arranged it, Miss Shockley,” he explained. “All arranged by type so that you can see, over time, the evolution of each artefact. That is what Pitt-Rivers wants to tell the people: that Darwin was right and that species, and cultures too evolve. He wants to educate them so that they can improve themselves.”
She smiled to see him so enthusiastic.
“You believe society can improve then, Mr Porters?”
“I believe it is evolving all the time.”
She nodded. It was exactly what she wanted him to say.
For it was only as they made their way back from the wonders of Cranborne Chase that she broached the subject in her mind.
“You believe in human progress?”
“Certainly.”
“And that each generation men raise themselves a little higher, develop their gifts further?”
“I do. That is progress.”
“Does this apply to women as well as men?”
“It does.”
“Then when will society evolve sufficiently to give women the same rights and freedoms as men?”
He looked worried. Why was it, she wondered, that Porters was so full of ideas for progress, so happy to follow a visionary like Pitt-Rivers, and yet so cautious the moment he was faced with any idea that might challenge authority?
And Porters in turn thought: is she, once again, going to become wild and unpredictable and do herself harm? He tried to soothe her.
“I am in favour of some reform, yes. The property act for married women . . .”
“That allowed a married woman to keep what was hers instead of being robbed by her husband? What of it?”
“It is a start.”
“The campaign for women’s equal suffrage began over twenty years ago,” she reminded him. “Yet women have nothing. No woman has a vote. Yet ever since the Great Reform Act, the franchise for men has been extended. Why is democracy only for the male? Is this Darwin’s evolution?”
The arguments were falling out as she had planned. Though he did not know it, Porters was her guinea pig. She waited his response.
“These matters have been discussed in Parliament and refused.”
“Not quite. The bills passed their second readings. They should have been made law. But the cabinet always holds them up.”
“Yet in some areas in the north, the suffrage movement is declining among women,” he countered.
“Only because they are discouraged by the men who do nothing.”
She looked at him accusingly.
“You