CHAPTER IX.
THE ELECTION AT BASLEHURST.
Towards the end of September the day of the election arrived, andwith it arrived Luke Rowan at Baslehurst. The vacancy had beenoccasioned by the acceptance of the then sitting member of thatsituation under the crown which is called the stewardship of themanor of Helpholme. In other words an old gentleman who had done hislife's work retired and made room for some one more young and active.The old member had kept his seat till the end of the session, justleaving time for the moving for a new writ, and now the election wasabout to be held, almost at the earliest day possible. It had beenthought that a little reflection would induce the Baslehurst peopleto reject the smiles of the Jew tailor from London, and therefore aslittle time for reflection was given to them as possible. The wealth,the liberal politics, the generosity, and the successes of Mr. Hartwere dinned into their ears by a succession of speeches, and by anoverpowering flight of enormous posters; and then the Jewish hero,the tailor himself, came among them, and astonished their minds bythe ease and volubility of his speeches. He did not pronounce hiswords with any of those soft slushy Judaic utterances by which theyhad been taught to believe he would disgrace himself. His nose wasnot hookey, with any especial hook, nor was it thicker at the bridgethan was becoming. He was a dapper little man, with bright eyes,quick motion, ready tongue, and a very new hat. It seemed thathe knew well how to canvass. He had a smile and a good word forall,--enemies as well as friends. The task of abusing the Cornburyparty he left to his committee and backers. He spent a great deal ofmoney,--throwing it away in every direction in which he could do so,without laying himself open to the watchful suspicion of the otherside. He ate and drank like a Christian, and only laughed aloud whensome true defender of the Protestant faith attempted to scare himaway out of the streets by carrying a gammon of bacon up on high.Perhaps his strength as a popular candidate was best shown by hisdrinking a pint of Tappitt's beer in the little parlour behind thebar at the Dragon.
"He beats me there," said Butler Cornbury, when he heard of thatfeat.
But the action was a wise one. The question as to Tappitt's breweryand Tappitt's beer was running high at Baslehurst, and in no strongerway could Mr. Hart have bound to him the Tappitt faction than byswallowing in public that pint of beer. "Let me have a small glass ofbrandy at once," said Mr. Hart to his servant, having retired to hisroom immediately after the performance of the feat. His constitutionwas good, and I may as well at once declare that before half an hourhad passed over his head he was again himself, and at his work.
The question of Tappitt's beer and Tappitt's brewery was runninghigh in Baslehurst, and had gotten itself involved in the mouths ofthe people of Baslehurst, not only with the loves and sorrows ofpoor Rachel Ray, but with the affairs of this election. We know howTappitt had been driven to declare himself a stanch supporter of theJew. He had become very stanch,--stanch beyond the promising of hisown vote,--stanch even to a final sitting on the Jew's committee,and an active canvasser on the Jew's behalf. His wife, whosepassions were less strong than his own and her prudence greater, hadremonstrated with him on the matter. "You can vote against Cornbury,if you please," she had said, "but do it quietly. Keep your toe inyour pump and say nothing. Just as we stand at present about thebusiness of Rowan's, it would almost be better that you shouldn'tvote at all." But Tappitt was an angry man, at this momentuncontrollable by the laws of prudence, and he went into theseelection matters heart and soul, to his wife's great grief. ButlerCornbury, or Mrs. Butler Cornbury,--it was all the same to himwhich,--had openly taken up Rowan's part in the brewery controversy.A rumour had reached Tappitt that the inmates of Cornbury Grange hadloudly expressed a desire for good beer! Under such circumstances itwas not possible for him not to rush to the fight. He did rush intothe thick of it, and boasted among his friends that the Jew was safe.I think he was right,--right at any rate as regarded his own peaceof mind. Nothing gives a man such spirit for a fight, as the act offighting. During these election days he was almost regardless ofRowan. He was to second the nomination of the Jew, and so keen washe as to the speech that he would make, and as to the success of whathe was doing against Mr. Cornbury, that he was able to talk down hiswife, and browbeat Honyman in his own office. Honyman was about tovote for Butler Cornbury, was employed in the Cornbury interest, andknew well on which side his bread was buttered. Sharpit and Longfitewere local attorneys for the Jew, and in this way Tappitt was throwninto close intercourse with that eminent firm. "Of course we wouldn'tinterfere," said Sharpit confidently to the brewer. "We never dointerfere with the clients of another firm. We never did such a thingyet, and don't mean to begin. We find people drop into us quickenough without that. But in a friendly way, Mr. Tappitt, let mecaution you, not to let your fine business be injured by that youngsharper."
Mr. Tappitt found this to be very kind,--and very sensible too. Hegave no authority to Sharpit on that occasion to act for him; but hethought of it, resolving that he would set his shoulders firmly tothat wheel as soon as he had carried through this business of theelection.
But even in the matter of the election everything did not go wellwith Tappitt. He had appertaining to his establishment a certainforeman of the name of Worts, a heavy, respectable, useful man,educated on the establishment by Bungall and bequeathed by Bungallto Tappitt,--a man by no means ambitious of good beer, but veryambitious of profits to the firm, a servant indeed almost invaluablein such a business. But Tappitt had ever found him deficient inthis,--that he had a certain objectionable pride in having beenBungall's servant, and that as such he thought himself absolved fromthe necessity of subserviency to his latter master. Once a day indeedhe did touch his cap, but when that was done he seemed to fancy thathe was almost equal to Mr. Tappitt upon the premises. He never shookin his shoes if Tappitt were angry, nor affected to hasten his stepsif Tappitt were in a hurry, nor would he even laugh at Tappitt'sjokes, if,--as was too usual,--such jokes were not mirth-moving intheir intrinsic nature. Clearly he was not at all points a goodservant, and Tappitt in some hours of his prosperity had ventured tothink that the brewery could go on without him. Now, since the dayin which Rowan's treachery had first loomed upon Tappitt, he hadfelt much inclined to fraternize on easier terms with his foreman.Worts when he touched his cap had been received with a smile, andhis advice had been asked in a flattering tone,--not demanded asbelonging to the establishment by right. Then Tappitt began to talkof Rowan to his man, and to speak evil things of him, as was natural,expecting a reciprocity of malignity from Worts. But Worts on suchoccasions had been ominously silent. "H--m, I bean't so zure o'that," Worts had once said, thus differing from his master on somefundamental point of Tappitt strategy as opposed to Rowan strategy."Ain't you?" said Tappitt, showing his teeth. "You'd better go nowand look after those men at the carts." Worts had looked after themen at the carts, but he had done so with an idea in his head thatperhaps he would not long look after Tappitt's men or Tappitt'scarts. He had not himself been ambitious of good beer, but the ideahad almost startled him into acquiescence by its brilliancy.
Now Worts had a vote in the borough, and it came to Tappitt's earsthat his servant intended to give that vote to Mr. Cornbury. "Worts,"said he, a day or two before the election, "of course you intend tovote for Mr. Hart?"
Worts touched his cap, for it was the commencement of the day.
"I don't jest know," said he. "I was thinking of woting for the youngsquoire. I've know'd him ever since he was born, and I ain't neverknow'd the Jew gentleman;--never at all."
"Look here, Worts; if you intend to remain in this establishment Ishall expect you to support the liberal interest, as I support itmyself. The liberal interest has always been supported in Baslehurstby Bungall and Tappitt ever since Bungall and Tappitt have existed."
"The old maister, he wouldn't a woted for ere a Jew inChristendom,--not agin the squoire. The old maister was allays forthe Protestant religion."
"Very well, Worts; there can't be two ways of thinking here
, that'sall; especially not at such a time as this, when there's morereason than ever why those connected with the brewery should allstand shoulder to shoulder. You've had your bread out of thisestablishment, Worts, for a great many years."
"And I've 'arned it hard;--no man can't say otherwise. The sweato' my body belongs to the brewery, but I didn't ever sell 'em mywote;--and I don't mean." Saying which words, with an emphasis thatwas by no means servile, Worts went out from the presence of hismaster.
"That man's turning against me," said Tappitt to his wife atbreakfast time, in almost mute despair.
"What! Worts?" said Mrs. Tappitt.
"Yes;--the ungrateful hound. He's been about the place almost eversince he could speak, for more than forty years. He's had two pound aweek for the last ten years;--and now he's turning against me."
"Is he going over to Rowan?"
"I don't know where the d---- he's going. He's going to vote forButler Cornbury, and that's enough for me."
"Oh, T., I wouldn't mind that; especially not just now. Only thinkwhat a help he'll be to that man!"
"I tell you he shall walk out of the brewery the week after this, ifhe votes for Cornbury. There isn't room for two opinions here, and Iwon't have it."
For a moment or two Mrs. Tappitt sat mute, almost in despair. Thenshe took courage and spoke out.
"T.," said she, "it won't do."
"What won't do?"
"All this won't do. We shall be ruined and left without a home. Idon't mind myself; I never did; but think of the girls! What wouldthey do if we was turned out of this?"
"Who's to turn you out?"
"I know. I see it. I am beginning to understand. T., that man wouldnot go against you and the brewery if he didn't know which way thewind is blowing. Worts is wide awake,--quite wide; he always was. T.,you must take the offer Rowan has made of a regular income and liveretired. If you don't do it,--I shall!" And Mrs. Tappitt, as shespoke the audacious words, rose up from her chair, and stood with herarms leaning upon the table.
"What!" said Tappitt, sitting aghast with his mouth open.
"Yes, T.; if you don't think of your family I must. What I'm sayingMr. Honyman has said before; and indeed all Baslehurst is saying thesame thing. There's an offer made to you that will put your family ona footing quite genteel,--no gentlefolks in the county more so; andyou, too, that are getting past your work!"
"I ain't getting past my work."
"I shouldn't say so, T., if it weren't for your own good,--and ifI'm not to know about that, who is? It's all very well going aboutelectioneering; and indeed it's just what gentlefolks is fit for whenthey're past their regular work; And I'm sure I shan't begrudge it solong as it don't cost anything; but that's not work you know, T."
"Ain't I in the brewery every day for seven or eight hours, and oftenmore?"
"Yes, T., you are; and what's like to come of it if you go on so?What would be my feelings if I saw you brought into the house struckdown with apoplepsy and paralepsy because I let you go on in that waywhen you wasn't fit? No, T.; I know my duty and I mean to do it. Youknow Dr. Haustus said only last month that you were that bilious--"
"Pshaw! bilious! it's enough to make any man bilious!"
"Or any dog," he would have added, had he thought of it. ThereuponTappitt rushed away from his wife, back into his little office,and from that soon made his way to the Jew's committee-room at theDragon, at which he was detained till nearly eleven o'clock at night.
"It's a kind of work in which one has to do as much after dinner asbefore," he said to his wife when he got back.
"For the matter of that," said she, "I think the after-dinner work isthe chief part of it."
On the day of the election Luke Rowan was to be seen standing in theHigh Street talking to Butler Cornbury the candidate. Rowan was notan elector, for the cottages had not been in his possession longenough to admit of his obtaining from them a qualification to vote;but he was a declared friend of the Cornbury party. Mrs. ButlerCornbury had sent a message to him saying that she hoped to see himsoon after the election should be over: on the following day or onthe next, and Butler Cornbury himself had come to him in the town.Though absent from Baslehurst Rowan had managed to declare hisopinions before that time, and was suspected by many to have writtenthose articles in the "Baslehurst Gazette" which advocated the rightof any constituency to send a Jew to Parliament if it pleased, butwhich proved at the same time that any constituency must be wrong tosend any Jew to Parliament, and that the constituency of Baslehurstwould in the present instance be specially wrong to send Mr. Hart toParliament. "We have always advocated," said one of these articles,"the right of absolute freedom of choice for every borough and everycounty in the land; but we trust that the day is far distant inwhich the electors of England shall cease to look to their nearestneighbours as their best representatives." There wasn't much in theargument, but it suited the occasion, and added strength to Rowan'sown cause in the borough. All the stanch Protestants began to feel awant of good beer. Questions very ill-natured as toward Tappitt wereasked in the newspapers. "Who owns The Spotted Dog at Busby-porcorum;and who compels the landlord to buy his liquor at Tappitt's brewery?"There were scores of questions of the same nature, all of whichTappitt attributed, wrongly, to Luke Rowan. Luke had written thatarticle about freedom of election, but he had not condescended tonotice the beer at the Spotted Dog.
And there was another quarrel taking place in Baslehurst, on thescore of that election, between persons with whom we are connectedin this story. Mr. Prong had a vote in the borough, and was disposedto make use of it; and Mrs. Prime, regarding her own position as Mr.Prong's affianced bride, considered herself at liberty to questionMr. Prong as to the use which he proposed to make of that vote.To Mrs. Prime it appeared that anything done in any direction forthe benefit of a Jew was a sin not to be forgiven. To Mr. Prong itseemed to be as great a sin not to do anything in his power forthe hindrance and vexation of those with whom Dr. Harford and Mr.Comfort were connected by ties of friendship. Mrs. Prime, who, ofthe two, was the more logical, would not disjoin her personal andher scriptural hatreds. She also hated Dr. Harford; but she hatedthe Jews more. She was not disposed to support a Jew in Baslehurstbecause Mr. Comfort, in his doctrines, had fallen away from thepurity of his early promise. Her idea was that a just man and a goodChristian could not vote for either of the Baslehurst candidatesunder the present unhappy local circumstances;--but that underno circumstances should a Christian vote for a Jew. All this shesaid, in a voice not so soft as should be the voice of woman to herbetrothed.
"Dorothea," said Mr. Prong very solemnly;--they were sitting at thetime in his own little front parlour, as to the due arrangement ofthe furniture in which Mrs. Prime had already ventured to make someslight alterations which had not been received favourably by Mr.Prong,--"Dorothea, in this matter you must allow me to be the bestjudge. Voting for Members of Parliament is a thing which ladiesnaturally are not called upon to understand."
"Ladies can understand as well as gentlemen," said Mrs. Prime, "thata curse has gone out from the Lord against that people; and gentlemenhave no more right than ladies to go against the will of the Lord."
It was in vain that Mr. Prong endeavoured to explain to her that thecurse attached to the people as a nation, and did not necessarilyfollow units of that people who had adopted other nationalities.
"Let the units become Christians before they go into Parliament,"said Mrs. Prime.
"I wish they would," said Mr. Prong. "I heartily wish they would: andMr. Hart, if he be returned, shall have my prayers."
But this did not at all suffice for Mrs. Prime, who, perhaps, in thematter of argument had the best of it. She told her betrothed to hisface that he was going to commit a great sin, and that he was temptedto this sin by grievous worldly passions. When so informed Mr. Prongclosed his eyes, crossed his hands meekly on his breast, and shookhis head.
"Not from thee, Dorothea," said he, "not from thee should this havecome."
"Who is to speak out to you if I am not?" said she.
But Mr. Prong sat in silence, and with closed eyes again shook hishead.
"Perhaps we had better part," said Mrs. Prime, after an interval offive minutes. "Perhaps it will be better for both of us."
Mr. Prong, however, still shook his head in silence; and it wasdifficult for a lady in Mrs. Prime's position to read accurately themeaning of such shakings under such circumstances. But Mrs. Primewas a woman sufficiently versed in the world's business to be ableto resolve that she would have an answer to her question when sherequired an answer.
"Mr. Prong," she said, "I remarked just now that perhaps we hadbetter part."
"I heard the words," said Mr. Prong,--"I heard the cruel words." Buteven then he did not open his eyes, or remove his hands from hisbreast. "I heard the words, and I heard those other words, stillmore cruel. You had better leave me now that I may humble myself inprayer."
"That's all very well, Mr. Prong, and I'm sure I hope you will; butsituated as we are, of course I should choose to have an answer. Itseems to me that you dislike that kind of interference which I regardas a wife's best privilege and sweetest duty. If this be so, it willbe better for us to part,--as friends of course."
"You have accused me of a great sin," he said; "of a great sin;--of agreat sin!"
"And so in my mind it would be."
"Judge not, lest ye be judged, Dorothea; remember that."
"That doesn't mean, Mr. Prong, that we are not to have our opinions,and that we are not to warn those that are near us when we see themwalking in the wrong path. I might as well say the same to you, whenyou--"
"No, Dorothea; it is my bounden duty. It is my work. It is that towhich I am appointed as a minister. If you cannot see the differenceI have much mistaken your character,--have much mistaken yourcharacter."
"Do you mean to say that nobody but a clergyman is to know what'sright and what's wrong? That must be nonsense, Mr. Prong. I'm sorryto say anything to grieve you,--" Mr. Prong was now shaking his headagain, with his eyes most pertinaciously closed,--"but there are somethings which really one can't bear."
But he only shook his head. His inward feelings were too many forhim, so that he could not at the present moment bring himself to givea reply to the momentous proposition which his betrothed had madehim. Nor, indeed, had he at this moment fixed his mind as to the stepwhich Duty and Wisdom combined would call upon him to take in thismatter. The temper of the lady was not certainly all that he haddesired. As an admiring member of his flock she had taken all hisghostly counsels as infallible; but now it seemed to him as thoughmost of his words and many of his thoughts and actions were madesubject by her to a bitter criticism. But in this matter he wasinclined to rely much upon his own strength. Should he marry thelady, as he was still minded to do for many reasons, he would be toher a loving, careful husband; but he would also be her lord andmaster,--as was intended when marriage was made a holy ordinance. Inthis respect he did not doubt himself or his own powers. Hard wordshe could bear, and, as he thought, after a time control. So thinking,he was not disposed to allow the lady to recede from her troth tohim, simply because in her anger she expressed a wish to do so.Therefore he had wisely been silent, and had shaken his head inreproach. But unfortunately the terms of their compact had not beenfinally settled with reference to another heading. Mrs. Prime hadpromised to be his wife, but she had burdened her promise withcertain pecuniary conditions which were distasteful to him,--whichwere much opposed to that absolute headship and perfect mastery,which, as he thought, should belong to the husband as husband. Hisviews on this subject were very strong, and he was by no meansinclined to abate one jot of his demand. Better remain single inhis work than accept the name of husband without its privileges!But he had hoped that by mingled firmness and gentle words he mightbring his Dorothea round to a more womanly way of thinking. He hadflattered himself that there was a power of eloquence in him whichwould have prevailed over her. Once or twice he thought that he wason the brink of success. He knew well that there were many points inhis favour. A woman who has spoken of herself, and been spoken of,as being on the point of marriage, does not like to recede; and hisDorothea, though not specially womanly among women, was still awoman. Moreover he had the law on his side,--the old law as comingfrom the Scriptures. He could say that such a pecuniary arrangementas that proposed by his Dorothea was sinful. He had said so,--as hehad then thought not without effect; but now she retaliated upon himwith accusation of another sin! It was manifestly in her power tobreak away from him on that money detail. It seemed now to be herwish to break away from him; but she preferred doing so on that othermatter. He began to fear that he must lose his wife, seeing that hewas resolved never to yield on the money question; but he did notchoose to be entrapped into an instant resignation of his engagementby Dorothea's indignation on a point of abstruse Scripturo-politicalmorality. His Dorothea had assumed her indignation as a cloak for herpecuniary obstinacy. It might be that he must yield; but he would notsurrender thus at the sound of a false summons. So he closed his eyesvery pertinaciously and shook his head.
"I think upon the whole," said she again, "that we had better make upour minds to part." Then she stood up, feeling that she should thusemploy a greater power in forcing an answer from him. He must haveseen her motion through some cranny of his pertinaciously closedeyes, for he noticed it by rising from his own chair, with both hishands firmly fixed upon the table; but still he did not open hiseyes,--unless it might be to the extent of that small cranny.
"Good-bye, Mr. Prong," said she.
Then he altered the form of his hands, and taking them from the tablehe dashed them together before his face. "God bless you, Dorothea!"said he. "God bless you! God bless you!" And he put out his hands asthough blessing her in his darkness. She, perceiving the inutility ofendeavouring to shake hands with a man who wouldn't open his eyes,moved away from her chair towards the door, purposely raising a soundof motion with her dress, so that he might know that she was going.In that I think she took an unnecessary precaution, for the cranny atthe corner of his eye was still at his disposal.
"Good-bye, Mr. Prong," she said again, as she opened the door forherself.
"God bless you, Dorothea!" said he. "May God bless you!"
Then, without assistance at the front door she made her way outinto the street, and as she stepped along the pavement, sheformed a resolve,--which no eloquence from Mr. Prong could everovercome,--that she would remain a widow for the rest of her days.
At twelve o'clock on the morning of the election Mr. Hart wasdeclared by his own committee to be nine ahead, and was admittedto be six ahead by Mr. Cornbury's committee. But the Cornbury folkasserted confidently that in this they saw certain signs of success.Their supporters were not men who could be whipped up to the pollearly in the day, whereas Hart's voters were all, more or less, undercontrol, and had been driven up hurriedly to the hustings so asto make this early show of numbers. Mr. Hart was about everywherespeaking, and so was Butler Cornbury; but in the matter of oratory Iam bound to acknowledge that the Jew had by much the mastery over theChristian. There are a class of men,--or rather more than a class,a section of mankind,--to whom a power of easy expression by meansof spoken words comes naturally. English country gentlemen, highlyeducated as they are, undaunted as they usually are, self-confidentas they in truth are at the bottom, are clearly not in thissection. Perhaps they are further removed from it, considering theadvantages they have for such speaking, than any other class of menin England,--or I might almost say elsewhere. The fact, for it is afact, that some of the greatest orators whom the world has known havebeen found in this class, does not in any degree affect the truth ofmy proposition. The best grapes in the world are perhaps grown inEngland, though England is not a land of grapes. And for the samereason. The value of the thing depends upon its rarity, and its valueinstigates the efforts for excellence. The power of vocal expressionwhich seems naturally to belong to an American is to an ordi
naryEnglishman very marvellous; but in America the talking man is butlittle esteemed. "Very wonderful power of delivery,--that of Mr.So-and-So," says the Englishman, speaking of an American.
"Guess we don't think much of that kind of thing here," says theYankee. "There's a deal too much of that coin in circulation."
English country gentlemen are not to be classed among that section ofmankind which speaks easily in public, but Jews, I think, may be soclassed. The men who speak thus easily and with natural fluency, arealso they who learn languages easily. They are men who observe ratherthan think, who remember rather than create, who may not have greatmental powers, but are ever ready with what they have, whose bestword is at their command at a moment, and is then serviceable thoughperhaps incapable of more enduring service.
At any rate, as regarded oratory in Baslehurst the dark little manwith the bright new hat from London was very much stronger thanhis opponent,--so much stronger that poor Butler Cornbury beganto sicken of elections and to wish himself comfortably at home atCornbury Grange. He knew that he was talking himself down whilethe Israelitish clothier was talking himself up. "It don't matter,"Honyman said to him comfortably. "It's only done for the show of thething and to fill up the day. If Gladstone were here he wouldn't talka vote out of them one way or the other;--nor yet the devil himself."This consoled Butler Cornbury, but nevertheless he longed that theday might be over.
And Tappitt spoke too more than once,--as did also Luke Rowan, inspite of various noisy interruptions in which he was told that he wasnot an elector, and in spite also of an early greeting with a deadcat. Tappitt, in advocating the claims of Mr. Hart to be returned toParliament as member for Baslehurst, was clever enough to introducethe subject of his own wrongs. And so important had this breweryquestion become that he was listened to with every sign of interestwhen he told the people for how many years Bungall and Tappitt hadbrewed beer for them, there in Baslehurst. Doubtless he was met bysundry interruptions from the Rowanites.
"What sort of tipple has it been, T.?" was demanded by one voice.
"Do you call that beer?" said a second.
"Where do you buy your hops?" asked a third.
But he went on manfully, and was buoyed up by a strong belief that hewas fighting his own battle with success.
Nor was Rowan slow to answer him. He was proud to say that he wasBungall's heir, and as such he intended to continue Bungall'sbusiness. Whether he could improve the quality of the old tap hedidn't know, but he would try. People had said a few weeks ago thathe had been hounded out of Baslehurst, and did not mean to come backagain. Here he was. He had bought property in Baslehurst. He meantto live in Baslehurst. He pledged himself to brew beer in Baslehurst.He already regarded himself as belonging to Baslehurst. And, beinga bachelor, he hoped that he might live to marry a wife out ofBaslehurst. This last assurance was received with unqualifiedapplause from both factions, and went far in obtaining for Rowan thatlocal popularity which was needful to him. Certainly the Rowancontest added much to the popular interest of that election.
At the close of the poll on that evening it was declared by the mayorthat Mr. Butler Cornbury had been elected to serve the borough inParliament by a majority of one vote.