Frightened at the aspect of affairs, the aged chairman, with a feeble, trembling voice, told his fellow-townsmen that he had the pleasure of introducing to them Mr. Wentworth, a clever journalist from London, whom some of them knew when he was formerly a preacher in that town, and whom he hoped they would listen to that evening with all the respect and attention the occasion demanded. It was with difficulty and not a little interruption that the chairman could say as much, and then he collapsed, wishing that he had stayed at home in the bosom of his family. The London candidate then came forward, to be a.s.sailed with a howl of derision from his foes closely packed in the front, while but a faint cheer from the far end was now and then perceptible as the roar was slightly lulled.

'Gentlemen, pray give Mr. Wentworth a fair hearing,' cried the chairman, and again the storm grew and the confusion increased. 'Order! order!'

said the chairman, screaming at the top of his voice. He might just as well have spoken to the winds or waves. Then he grew angry and began to threaten, and that only made matters worse. Wentworth, erect as a statue and with folded arms, calmly surveyed the scene. It was not a pleasant sight; it suggests to one the truth of the Darwinian origin of the human race. In a crowd men act like monkeys. I remember as a boy sneaking into an election crowd and calling a decent, respectable, white-haired old baronet, who had been the Tory representative of the county for a quarter of a century, and whom every decent body respected, the old Benacre Bull (Benacre being the name of the village in which he lived); and everyone repeated the nickname till the old gentleman had to stop speaking, and I have been ashamed of the thing ever since. Had the individual members of that howling mob met the Baronet in the street as he rode by on his favourite chestnut mare, there was not one of them but would have treated him with every appearance of courtesy and respect.

There is something very cowardly in an election mob.

Long did the storm roar and rage as Wentworth stood up, the true friend and earnest champion of his rough and unmannerly audience. The chairman in vain appealed for fair play. That was the last thing to be expected at such a time; in vain he addressed them as gentlemen, or friends, or electors, still the storm raged. However, Wentworth was not a man to be put down, and he resolutely maintained his ground.

'I am come,' he said, 'to put you on your guard, to ask you not to be led away by clap-trap, to tell you that all my life I have been fighting on behalf of the people, to lift up my voice on behalf of Peace, Retrenchment and Reform. You have a serious duty to discharge: to send a member to Parliament to help the good old cause of liberty and freedom and human progress.' Again his voice was lost in an uproar. 'You have,'

he continued, 'rights to be won, a victory to achieve.' Again there was an uproar. 'You have three candidates before you, one of them a Tory.

What, I ask, have Tories done for you and yours?'-more insane clamour.

'You know better than I do, they are not the friends but the foes of the people, that it is only as you have triumphed over them that you have become free, that the history of Toryism is a record of resistance to popular rights-' 'And precious freedom,' said a socialist, who darted up from the mob, amidst cheers on every side. 'You Liberals give us liberty to work and slave and starve. What with the landlords who have robbed us of the land which belongs to the people, and what with the millowners who grind us in their mills, and your priests who make earth a h.e.l.l, and then bid us think of a better land, what have we to thank our leaders, be they Whig, Tory or Radical, for? We are nothing to society, whose laws are framed for the purpose of securing the wealth of the world to the haristocrat or the rich sn.o.b, thereby depriving the larger portion of manhood of its rights and chances.'

This was a new doctrine for Sloville, and it was resented accordingly, and the socialist orator was pulled and hustled out of the hall, amidst increasing cries of order and police. The poor frightened chairman bolted out of the chair, much to the delight of the Tory roughs, and then one of the biggest of them moved a resolution to the effect that Mr.

Wentworth was not a fit and proper person to represent the borough, and that he be requested to retire, and without calling for a show of hands, or putting the contrary, declared the resolution carried. At length Mr.

Wentworth succeeded in getting him to do so, and the motion was lost.

However, it was felt to be a farce to attempt to do any sane business that night, and Mr. Wentworth, as he left the hall, was heard loudly a.s.serting that they would hear from him again, whilst from the far end of the hall there came many who claimed to be his supporters, and who a.s.sured him that he had but to continue his meetings and he would be sure to win.

He knew better, he knew that the chief agent in elections was money, that the candidate with longest purse generally wins, and money he was not prepared to spend. So it has ever been, and so it will according to present appearances ever be, and must be so, till paid canva.s.sing be put down by Act of Parliament, and election agents' fees reduced. There is little likelihood of Parliament doing that. Wealthy men like to get into the House, it confers upon them prestige, a seat in Parliament helps the lawyer to a place, a seat in Parliament gives a naval or a military officer another chance of dipping his hand in John Bull's purse, or it enables a wealthy ignoramus who has managed either by the blessing of G.o.d upon his labours, or with the aid of the devil, to become a millionaire, to obtain admission for his sons and daughters into circles in which they would otherwise have no claim. Everybody who is a somebody is anxious to see only men of wealth in Parliament. You may call it the people's House if you will, it is only the House of the rich people after all. Now and then one of the people finds his way there as a working man, but he is the exception, not the rule, and too often is but the paid agent of the rich man who defrays his expenses, and expects him, with all his show of independence, to support the party, right or wrong. Nor is he much more independent if he is paid by the working men themselves.

'What impudence! Serve the fellow right,' said Sir Watkin Strahan, the swell Liberal candidate, as he talked over the matter with his brother swell, the Tory candidate, in the club-room of Sloville next day. 'What impudence for a London newspaper man to come down here and upset the town! Things have come to a pretty pa.s.s, when such fellows are permitted to interfere into our local matters. At any rate, we may agree to get rid of him as a common enemy.'

And for that purpose they entered into an alliance offensive and defensive. Sloville was to be made too hot for Mr. Wentworth-that was understood in every public-house; there was no need to hint any more.

Once upon a time Sir G.o.dfrey Kneller overheard a British working man devoting, as was the wont of British workmen in his day (they don't do it now, they know better), the various members of his body to perdition.

The courtly painter was shocked and scandalized. 'What!' said he, 'do you think that G.o.d Almighty will take the trouble to d.a.m.n a poor wretch like you? The idea is absurd; it is lords and fine gentlemen he will d.a.m.n, I a.s.sure you.'

So it has been with the British public in the choice of a member of Parliament. It is only lords and fine gentlemen, or at any rate rich ones, who have been held to be worthy of being sent by the people to the House of the people. A time will come when the electors will think differently; when they will feel that a newspaper man is more likely to serve them faithfully; more likely to decide rightly in political matters; more likely to study the best interests of the nation than a fine gentleman, who thinks politics a bore, and who only consents to fight the battle of party on the understanding that, whether he wins or loses, he shall not go without his reward.

CHAPTER XVI.

ELECTIONEERING AGAIN.

Elections fifty years ago, if partly a farce, were at any rate picturesque. For a while, everyone seemed insane-the publican, who reaped a golden harvest; the local drapers, who sold the ribbons which formed the colours of the respective parties; the lively stable-keeper; the crowd of idle loafers who were hired to do little more than cheer one candidate and hoot down the other. The town rolled in wealth, which poured in on all sides, and a good deal of it made its way to the electors' wives and children. The out-voter from the most distant quarter was hunted up and sent down in coaches chartered for the purpose and paid for by the happy candidate or his friends, and every night there was a row and a fight, and a good deal of bad language. All the while there was a perpetual canva.s.s, and the elector was in danger of bursting, as a feeling of his temporary importance grew and swelled within him.

Some refused to vote, as they flattered themselves, vainly, that they should thus offend neither party. The clergy were specially active; nor were their dissenting brethren-with the exception of the Methodists, at that time very cautious in political matters-much behind.

The nomination day was one of great display, and the day of polling was one of still greater, as hourly there was published a state of the poll, and the rival candidates drove from one polling-place to another to cheer the hearts of their supporters, who were many of them so drunk as scarcely to know for whom they were going to vote.

It was often dangerous work taking up the men to the poll through a crowd of heated roughs, who were placed round the booth to increase the difficulties of the intending electors. Meanwhile, all the town was holiday-making and enjoying the sport. Ladies looked down from the first-floors of every house in the neighbourhood to encourage one party and to cheer on its supporters and friends. Voters came in ma.s.ses, headed by bands playing and with colours flying. Surely there was excitement enough, and folly enough, displayed on the occasion.

Sloville was agitated from top to bottom. Yet some people are never satisfied. They regretted that the harvest was so brief; that it was all over in a day, and did not last, as it did in the good old times, a fortnight; that there was not so much of locking up doubtful voters as of old, and keeping them stowed away drunk till the election was over.

'There ain't a voter in the town but what I can account for,' said Sir Watkin's agent to his princ.i.p.al. 'I have got all their names down in black and white. By-the-bye, Sir Watkin, can you let me have another cheque?'

'I am sorry to hear that. How much do you want?'

'Another thousand will do it.'

'Why, you have had one thousand already.'

'Never mind,' said the election agent. 'What's the good of having money if you don't spend it. You'll be sure to get it all back again. n.o.body is so popular as a man who spends his money freely.'

'That may be; but money is hard to get.'

'Oh, leave that to me,' said the agent.

'Well, I suppose I must. But,' added the Baronet, 'at any rate you might send up to London and see what the Reform Club will do.'

'Of course, we must apply to them. A stranger came down from town last night. He has not shown his face, but I've pumped the boots at the "Old Swan," and I find that he is from the Carlton, and has brought a trunk full of sovereigns with him. The voters must have got an inkling of it, and are in ecstasies, and are now keeping off till the last moment. I believe I spotted the fellow in the disguise of an old woman working in the slums this morning'. I could not see his face because he put up his handkerchief; but I do believe it was no other than Shrouder.'

'Oh, no: it can't be him. I am told he is at Birmingham.'

'You may depend upon it, Sir Watkin, he is here, and we shall have the devil to pay.'

'Devil take him,' said the Baronet angrily.

'I must say that Shrouder is a bit of a scamp, and that he is the man for a dirty job. But I am quite a match for him,' said the agent proudly.

'At any rate, I am up to his little games. I am really quite delighted to have him as an opponent, and think it complimentary to the borough that he is come here to work it. The Carlton would not have sent him here had they not felt that they were in a desperate state indeed. Ah,'

continued he excitedly, 'there is nothing like a well-contested election.

I am of the opinion of a n.o.ble duke. "After all," said he, "what greater enjoyment can there be in life than to stand a contested election for Yorkshire, and to win it by one?"'

'Yes; but I ain't a duke, and have not got a duke's wealth.'

'Never mind,' said the agent; 'elections don't happen every day, and when it is over you can economize.'

'For the first time in my life. That will be hard work.'

In the meanwhile the Baronet continued his canva.s.s, and his carriage with the family arms, and the servants in the family liveries, were incessantly to be seen. He appealed to the Churchmen as one of themselves, to the Dissenters as their friend and ally in the cause of religious freedom. As a landowner he reminded the farmers that they were all in the same boat, and that legislation that was beneficial to the landlord was equally to the advantage of the tenant and the farm-labourer as well. No one was such an ardent admirer of the manufacturing system which had made us a nation of shopkeepers, and he won the hearts of the manufacturers as he told them that to him they seemed as the very pillars of the State. Somehow or other he seemed in a fair way of success, and when he got into a mess his agent was there to pull him out. Thus, one day he happened to call on a humble shopkeeper, who regarded him with natural distrust.

'Oh, Sir Watkin,' said he, 'I am sure I respect you and your family very much; but before I promise you my vote I'd like to hear what are your principles.'

Sir Watkin was about to give the usual and evasive reply, when his agent pulled him back and opened a broadside:

'His _principles_. You ask a gentleman like Sir Watkin his principles; go along with you! Things have come to a pretty pa.s.s when a gentleman like Sir Watkin must stop in the road to tell you his principles. Come along, Sir Watkin, don't be losing precious time here.' And the small shopkeeper felt that he had done wrong, and promised him his vote accordingly.

'That was a clever trick of yours,' said Sir Watkin, laughing; 'but it would not do a second time.'

'I don't know, Sir Watkin; it is well to ride the high horse now and then.'

In another case the Baronet did not get off quite so well. Said an operative at one of his meetings:

'Why are the mothers and sisters of peers, who have done nothing for the public, to be maintained in luxury and at the public expense, while we are obliged to support our poor relatives from our hard-earned wages or see them sent to the workhouse?'

Happily the Baronet's supporters made such a noise that the reply was unheard.

But there was a stronger influence at work.