XVIII
THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION (Continued)
The beast that was in the crowd answered to the spur. "Ye've robbed uslong enough, ye old rascal!" a harsh Midland voice shrieked over theheads of the throng. "We'll have our rights now, you blood-sucker!"And "Boo! Boo!" the lower elements of the mob broke forth. And then instern cadence, "The Bill! The Bill! The Bill!"
"Out of Egypt, and out of the House of Bondage!" shrieked a Methodistabove the hub-bub.
"Ay, ay!"
"Slaves no longer!"
"No! No! No!"
"Hear that, ye hoary tyrant!" in a woman's shrill tones. "Who jailedmy man for a hare?"
A roar of laughter which somewhat cleared the air followed this. SirRobert smiled grimly.
The hustings, a mere wooden platform, raised four feet above theground, rested against the Abbey gateway. It was closed at the rearand at each end; but in front it was guarded only by a stout railing.And so public was it, and so exposed its dangerous eminence, that themore timid of the unpopular party were no sooner upon it than theyyearned for the safe obscurity of the common level. Of the threebooths into which the interior was divided, the midmost was reservedfor the returning officer and his staff.
Bob Flixton, who kept close to Sir Robert's elbow, looked down on thesea of jeering faces. "I tell you what it is," he said. "We're goingto have a confounded row!"
Mowatt, at some distance from him, was of the same opinion, butregarded the outlook differently. "It's my belief," he muttered, "thatwe shall all be murdered."
And "D----n the Bill!" the old Squire ejaculated. "The people are offtheir heads! Jack as good as his master, and better too!"
These four, with the candidates, were in the front row. The Rector,the Alderman, and one or two of the neighbouring gentry shared thehonour; and faced as well as they could the hooting and yelling, andthe occasional missile. In the front of the other booth were White-HatWilliams and Blackford, the minister, Mr. Wrench, the candidate,wreathed in smiles, a pair of Whig Squires from the Bowood side, acurate of the same colour, Pybus--and Arthur Vaughan!
A thrill ran through Sir Robert's supporters when they saw his youngkinsman on the other side; actually on the other side and arrayedagainst them. Their hearts, already low, sank a peg lower. Of evilomens this seemed the worst; sunk is the cause the young desert! Andmany were the curious eyes that searched the renegade's features andstrove to read his thoughts.
But in vain. His head high, his face firmly composed, Vaughan lookedstonily before him. Nor was it possible to say whether he was reallyunmoved, was stolidly indifferent, or merely masked agitation. SirRobert on his side never looked at him, nor betrayed any sense of hispresence. But he knew. He knew! And with the first bitter presage ofdefeat--for he was not a man to be intimidated by noise--he repeatedhis vow: "Not a pound, nor a penny! Never! Never!" This publicrenunciation, this wanton defiance--he would never forgive it!Henceforth, it must be war to the knife between them. No thousands, nocompensation, no compromise! As the young man was sowing, so he shouldreap. He who, in its darkest hour not only insulted but abandoned hisfamily, what punishment was too severe for him?
Vaughan could make a good guess at the proud autocrat's feelings: andhe averted his eyes with care. The proceedings here opened, and helistened laughingly; until midway in the reading of some documentwhich no one heeded--the crowd jeering and flouting merrily--he caughta new note in the turmoil. The next moment he was conscious of aswirling movement among those below him, there was a rush of thethrong to his right, and he looked quickly to see what it meant.
A man--one of a group of three or four who appeared to be trying topush their way through the crowd--was being hustled and flung to andfro amid jeers and taunts. He was striving to gain the hustings, butwas still some way from it; and his chance of reaching it with hisclothes on his back seemed small. Vaughan saw so much; then the manlost his temper, and struck a blow. It was returned--and then, nottill then, Vaughan saw that the man was Isaac White. He cried"Shame!"--and had passed one leg over the barriers to go to therescue, when he saw that another was before him. Sir Robert's tall,spare figure was down among the crowd--which opened instinctivelybefore his sharp command. His eyes, his masterful air still had power;the press opened instinctively before his sharp command. He hadreached White, had extricated him, and turned to make good hisretreat, when it seemed to strike the more brutal element in thecrowd--mostly strangers to him--that here was the prime enemy of thecause, on foot amongst them, at their mercy! A rush was made at hisback. He turned undaunted, White and two more at his side; the rabblerecoiled. But when he wheeled again, a second rush was made, and theywere upon him, and hustled him before he could turn. A man with a longstick struck off his hat, another--a lout with a cockade of amber andblue, the Whig colours--tried to trip him up. He stumbled, at the samemoment a third man knocked White down.
"Yah! Down with him!" roared the crowd, "Down with theBorough-monger!"
But Vaughan, who had anticipated rather than seen the stumble, wasover the rail, and cleaving the crowd, was at his side. He reached hima little in front of Bob Flixton, who had descended to the rescue fromthe other end of the booth. Vaughan hurled back the man who hadtripped Sir Robert and who was still trying to throw him down; and thesight of the amber and blue which the new champion wore checked theassailants, and gave White time to rise.
Vaughan was furious. "Back, you cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Wouldyou murder an old man? Shame on you! Shame!"
"Ay, you bullies!" cried Flixton, hitting one on the jaw veryneatly--and completely disposing of that one for the day. "Back withyou!"
As Vaughan spoke, half-a-dozen of his Tory supporters surrounded thebaronet and bore him back out of danger. Though Sir Robert wasundaunted, he was shaken; and breathing quickly, he let his hand restfor support on the nearest shoulder. It was Vaughan's, and the nextinstant he saw that it was; and he withdrew the hand as if he had letit rest on a hot iron.
"Mr. Flixton," he said--and the words reached a dozen ears at least,"your arm, if you please? I would rather be without this gentleman'sassistance."
Vaughan's face flamed. But neither the words nor the action took himunawares. He stepped back with dignity, slightly touched his hat, andso returned to his side of the hustings.
But he was wounded and very angry. Alone of his party he hadintervened--and this was his reward. When Pybus pushed his way to hisside and stooped to his ear, talking quickly and earnestly, he did notrepel him.
Episode as it was, the affray startled Sir Robert's friends: and Whitein particular took it very seriously. If violence of this sort was torule, if even Sir Robert's person was not respected, he saw that hewould not be able to bring his voters to the poll. They would run somerisk of losing their lives, and one or two for certain would not dareto vote. The thing must be stopped, and at once. With this in view hemade his way to the passage at the back of the hustings, which wascommon to all three booths, and heated and angry--his lip was cut bythe blow he had received--he called for Pybus. But the press at theback of the hustings was great, and one of White-Hat Williams'sforemen, who blocked the gangway, laughed in his face.
"I want to speak to Pybus," said White, glaring at the man, who onordinary days would have touched his hat to him.
"Then want'll be your master," the other retorted, with a wink. Andwhen White tried to push by him, the man gave him the shoulder.
"Let me pass," White foamed. No thought of Cobbett now, had the agent!These miserable upstarts, their insolence, their certainty of triumphfired his blood. "Let me pass!" he repeated.
"See you d----d first!" the other answered bluntly. "Your game's up,old cock! Your master has held the pit long enough, but his time'scome."
"If you don't----"
"If you put your nose in here, we'll pitch you over the rail!" theother declared.
White almost had a fit. Fortunately White-Hat Williams himselfappeared at this moment: and White a
ppealed to him.
"Mr. Williams," he said, "is this your safe conduct?"
"I gave none," with a grin.
"Pybus did."
"Ay, for your party! But if you choose to straggle in one by one, wecan't be answerable for every single voter," with a wink. "Nor for anyof you getting back again! No, no, White.
"_Beneath the ways of Ministers, and it's the truth I tell, You've bought us very cheap, good White, and you've sold us very well!_
But that's over! That's at an end to-day! But--what's this?"
This, was Sir Robert stepping forward to propose his candidates: orrather, it was the roar, mocking and defiant, which greeted hisattempt to do so. It was a roar that made speech impossible. No doubt,among the crowd which filled the space through which he had driven sooften with his four horses, the great man, the patron, the master ofall, there were some who still respected, and more who feared him; andmany who would not have insulted him. For if he had used his powerstiffly, he had not used it ill. But there were also in the crowd menwhose hearts were hot against the exclusiveness which had long effacedthem; who believed that freedom or slavery hung on the issue of thisday; who saw the prize of a long and bitter effort at stake, and wereset on using every intimidation, ay, and every violence, if victorycould not be had without them. And, were the others many or few, theseswept them away, infected them with recklessness, gave that stern andmocking ring to the roar which continued and thwarted Sir Robert'severy effort to make himself heard.
He stood long facing them, waiting, and never blenching. But after awhile his lip curled and his eyes looked disdain on the mob below him:such disdain as the old Duke in after days hurled at the Londonrabble, when for answer to their fulsome cheers he pointed to the ironshutters of Apsley House. Sir Robert Vermuyden had done something, andthought that he had done more, for the men who yelped and snarled andsnapped at him. According to his lights, acting on his maxim, all forthe people and nothing by the people, he had treated them generously,granted all he thought good for them, planned for them, wrought forthem. He had been master, but no task-master. He had indeedillustrated the better side of that government of the many by the few,of the unfit by the fit, with which he honestly believed the safetyand the greatness of his country to be bound up.
And this was their return! No wonder that, seeing things as he sawthem, he felt a bitter contempt for them. Freedom? Such freedom as wasgood for them, such freedom as was permanently possible--they had. Andslavery? Was it slavery to be ruled, wisely and firmly, by a classinto which they might themselves rise, a class which education andhabit had qualified to rule. In his mind's eye, as he looked down onthis fretting, seething mass, he saw that which they craved granted,and he saw, too, the outcome; that most cruel of all tyrannies, thetyranny of the many over the few, of the many who have neither a heartto feel nor a body to harm!
Once, twice, thrice one of his supporters thrust himself forward, andleaning on the rail, appealed with frantic gestures for silence, for ahearing, for respect. But each in turn retired baffled. Not a word inthat tempest of sound was audible. And no one on the other sideintervened. For they were pitiless. They in the old days had sufferedthe same thing: and it was their turn now. Even Vaughan stood withfolded arms and a stern face: feeling the last contempt for thehowling rabble before him, but firmly determined to expose himself tono second slight. At length Sir Robert saw that it was hopeless,shrugged his shoulders with quiet scorn, and shouting the names of hiscandidates in a clerk's ear, put on his hat, and stood back.
The old Squire seconded him in dumb show.
Then the Sergeant stood forward to state his views. He grasped therail with both hands and waited, smiling blandly. But he might havewaited an hour, he might have waited until night. The leaders for theBill were determined to make their power felt. They were resolved thatnot a word on the Tory side should be heard. The Sergeant waited, andafter a time, still smiling blandly, bowed and stood back.
It was Mr. Cooke's turn. He advanced. "Shout, and be hanged to you!"he cried, apoplectic in the face. An egg flew within a yard of him,and openly shaking his fist at the crowd he retired amid laughter.
Then White-Hat Williams, who had looked forward to this as to thegolden moment of his life and had conned his oration until he knew itsthunderous periods by heart, stepped forward to nominate the Whigcandidates. He took off his hat; and as if that had been the signalfor silence, such a stillness fell on all that his voice rang abovethe multitude like a trumpet.
"Gentlemen," he said, and smiling looked first to the one side andthen to the other. "Gentlemen----"
Alas, he smiled too soon. The Tories grasped the situation, and,furious at the reception which had fallen to the lot of their leaders,determined that if they were not heard, no one should be heard. Beforehe could utter another word they broke into rabid bellowings, and whattheir shouts lacked in volume they made up in ill-will. In a twinklingthey drowned White-Hat Williams's voice; and now who so indignant asthe Whigs? In thirty seconds half-a-dozen single combats wereproceeding in front of the Tory booth, blood flowed from as manynoses, and amid a terrific turmoil respectable men and justices of thepeace leant across the barriers and shook their fists and flungfrenzied challenges broadcast.
All to no purpose. The Tories, though so much the weaker party, thoughbut one to eight, could not be silenced. After making three or fourattempts to gain a hearing White-Hat Williams saw that he must reservehis oration: and with a scowl he shouted his names into the ear of theclerk.
"Who? Who did he say?" growled the Squire, panting with rage andhoarse with shouting. His face was crimson, his cravat awry, he hadlost his hat. "Who? Who?"
"Wrench and--one moment, sir!"
"Eh? Who do you say?"
"I couldn't hear! One moment, sir! Oh, yes! Wrench and Vaughan!"
"Vaughan?" old Rowley cried with a profane oath. "Impossible!"
But it was not impossible! Though so great was the surprise, sostriking the effect upon Sir Robert's supporters that for a fewseconds something like silence supervened. The serpent! The serpent!Here was a blow indeed--in the back!
Then as Blackford, the Methodist, rose to second the nomination, thestorm broke out anew and more furiously than before. "What?" foamedthe Squire, "be ruled by a rabble of grinning, yelling monkeys? Bygad, I'll leave the country first! I--I hope someone will shoot thatyoung man! I wish I'd never shaken his hand! By G--d, I'm glad myfather is in his grave! He'd never ha' believed this! Never! Never!"
And from that time until the poll was declared open--in dumb show--nota word was audible.
Then at last the shouting of the rival bands sank to a confused babelof jeers, abuse, and laughter. Exhausted men mopped their faces,voiceless men loosened their neck-cloths, the farthest from thehustings went off to drink, and there was a lull until the sound of adrum and fife announced a new event, and forth from the Heart and Handadvanced a procession of five led by the accursed Dyas.
They were the Whig voters and they marched proudly to the front of thepolling-booth, the mob falling back on either side to give them place.
Dyas flung his hat into the booth. "Wrench and Vaughan!" he cried in avoice which could be heard in the White Lion. "And I care not whoknows it!"
They put to him the bribery oath. "I can take it," he answered."Swallow it yourselves, if you can!"
"You should know the taste, Jack," cried a sly friend: and for amoment the laugh was against him.
One by one--the process was slow in those days--they voted. "Five forWrench and Vaughan." Wrench rose and bowed to each as he retired.Arthur Vaughan took no notice.
Sir Robert's voters looked at one another uneasily. They had the daybefore them, but--and then he saw the look, and, putting White and hisremonstrances on one side, he joined them, bade them follow him, anddescended before them. He would ask no man to do what he would not dohimself.
But the moment his action was understood, the moment the men were seenbehind him, there was a yell so fie
rce and a movement so threatening,that on the lowest step of the hustings he stood bareheaded, raisedhis hand for silence and for a wonder was obeyed. In a clear, loudvoice:
"Do you expect to terrify me," he cried, "either by threats orviolence? Let any man look in my face and see if it change colour? Lethim come and lay his hand on my heart and feel if it beats thequicker. Keep my voters from the poll and you stultify your own, forthere will be no election. Make way then, and let them pass to theirduty!"
And the crowd made way; and Arthur Vaughan felt a reluctant pang ofadmiration. The five were polled; the result so far, five for each ofthe candidates.
There remained to poll only Arthur Vaughan and Pillinger of the BlueDuck, if he could be brought up by the Tories. If neither of thesevoted the Returning Officer would certainly give the casting vote forSir Robert's candidates--if he dared.
Isaac White believed that he would not dare, and for some time pastthe agent had been in covert talk with Pybus at the back of thehustings, two or three of the friends of each masking the conference.Now he drew aside his employer who had returned in safety to hisplace; and he conferred with him. But for a time it was clear that SirRobert would not listen to what he had to say. He looked pale andangry, and returned but curt answers. But White persisted, holding himby the sleeve.
"Mr. Vaughan--bah, what a noise they make--does not wish to vote," heexplained. "But in the end he will, sir, it is my opinion, and thatwill give it to them unless we can bring up Pillinger--which I doubt,sir. Even if we do, it is a tie----"
"Well? Well?" Sir Robert struck in, eyeing him sternly. "What more dowe want? The Returning Officer----"
"He will not dare," White whispered, "and if he does, sir, it is mybelief he will be murdered. More, if we win they will rush the boothand destroy the books. They have as good as told me they will stick atnothing. Believe me, sir," he continued earnestly, "better than oneand one we can't look for now. And better one than none!"
But it was long before Sir Robert would be persuaded. No, defeat orvictory, he would fight to the last! He would be beholden to the otherside for nothing! White, however, was an honest man and less afraid ofhis master than usual: and he held to it. And at length the reflectionthat the bargain would at least shut out his kinsman prevailed withSir Robert, and he consented.
He was too chivalrous to return on his own side the man whose successwould fill his pockets. He elected for Wathen and never doubted thatthe Bowood interest would return their first love, Wrench. But whenthe landlord of the Blue Duck was brought up by agreement to vote fora candidate on either side, Pillinger voted by order for Wathen andVaughan.
"There's some d----d mistake!" shrieked the Squire, as the wordsreached his ears.
But there was no mistake, and to the silent disgust of the Tories andamid the frantic cheering of the Whigs, the return was made in favourof Sergeant John Wathen, and Arthur Vermuyden Vaughan, esquire. Loudand long was the cheering: the air was black with caps. But when thecrowd sought for the two to chair them according to immemorial custom,only the Sergeant could be found, and he with great prudence declinedthe honour.