Chippinge Borough

  IX

  THE BILL FOR GIVING EVERYBODY EVERYTHING!

  It is difficult to describe and impossible to exaggerate the heat ofpublic feeling which preceded the elections of '31. Four-fifths of thepeople of this country believed that the Bill--from which theyexpected so much that a satirist has aptly given it the title at thehead of this chapter--had been defeated in the late House by a trick.That trick the King, God bless him, had punished by dissolving theHouse. It remained for the people to show their sense of the trick byreturning a very different House; such a House as would not only passthe Bill, but pass it by a majority so decisive that the Lords, andparticularly the Bench of Bishops, whose hostility was known, wouldnot dare to oppose the public will.

  But as no more than a small proportion of these four-fifths had votes,they were forced to act, if they would make their will obeyed,indirectly; in one place by the legitimate pressure of public opinion,in another by bribery, in a third by intimidation, in a fourth, and afifth, and a sixth by open violence; everywhere by the unspoken threatof revolution. And hence arose the one good, sound, and firm argumentagainst the Bill which the Tory party enjoyed.

  One or two of their other arguments are not without interest, if onlyas the defence set up for a system so anomalous as to seem to usincredible--a system under which Gatton, with no inhabitants, returnedtwo members, and Sheffield, with something like a hundred thousandinhabitants, returned none; under which Dunwich, long drowned underthe North Sea, returned two members, and Birmingham returned none;under which the City of London returned four and Lord Lonsdalereturned nine; under which Cornwall, with one-fourth of the populationof Lancashire, returned thrice as many representatives; under whichthe South vastly outweighed the North, and land mightily outweighedall other property.

  Moreover, in no two boroughs was the franchise the same. One man livedin a hovel and had a vote; his neighbour lived in a mansion and had novote. Frequently the whole of the well-to-do townsfolk were voteless.Then, while any man with five thousand pounds might buy a seat, norsee the face of a single elector, on the other hand, the poll might bekept open for fifteen days, and a single county election might costtwo hundred thousand pounds. Bribery, forbidden in theory, waspermitted in practice. The very Government bribed under the rose, andit was humorously said that all that a man's constituents required wasto be satisfied of the _impurity_ of his intentions!

  An anomalous system; yet its defenders had something to say for it.

  First, that narrow as the franchise seemed, every class foundsomewhere in England its mouthpiece. At Preston, where all could votewho slept in the borough the previous night, the poorest class; in thepotwalloping boroughs where a fireplace gave a vote, the next class;in a city like Westminster, the ratepayers; in the counties, thefreeholders; in the universities, the clergy. And so on, the argumentbeing that the very anomalies of the system provided a mixedrepresentation without giving the masses a preponderant voice.

  Secondly, they said that it insured a House of ability, by enablingyoung men of parts, but small means, to obtain seats. Those who putthis forward flourished a long list of statesmen who had come in fornomination boroughs. It began with Pitt and ended with Macaulay--afeather plucked from the enemy's wing; and Burke stood for much in it.It became one of the commonplaces of the struggle.

  The third contention was of greater weight. It was that, with all itsabuses, the old system had worked well. This argument, too, had itscommonplace. The proverb, _stare super antiquas vias_, was thunderedfrom a thousand platforms, coupled with copious references to theFrench wars, and to the pilot who had weathered the storm. This wasthe argument of the old, and the rich, and the timid--of those whoclung to top-boots in the daytime and to pantaloons in the evening.But as the struggle progressed it came to be merged in the one soundargument to which reference has been made.

  "If you do not pass the Bill," said the Whigs, "there will be arevolution."

  "Possibly," the Tories rejoined. "And whom have we to thank for that?Who, using the French Revolution of last July as a fulcrum, haveunsettled the whole country? And now, having disturbed everything,tell us that we must grant to force what is not due to reason? You!But if the Bill is to pass, not because it is a good Bill, but becausethe mob desire it, where will this end? Pass Bills out of fear, andwhere will you end? Presently there will arise a ranting adventurer,more violent than Brougham, a hoary schemer more unscrupulous thanGrey, an angry boy, outscolding Durham, a pedant more bloodless thanLord John, an honest fanatic blinder than Althorp! And when _they_threaten _you_ with the terrors of the mob, what will you say?"

  To which the Whigs could only reply that the people must be trusted;and--and that the Bill must pass, or not only coronets but crownswould be flying.

  Dry arguments nowadays; but in those days alive, and to the party onits defence--the party which found itself thrust against the wall,that its pockets might be emptied--of vital interest. From scores ofplatforms candidates, leaning forward, bland and smiling, with onehand under the coat-tails and the other gently pumping, pumping,pumping, enunciated them--old hands these; or, red in the face,thundered them, striking fist into palm and overawing opposition; or,hopeless amid the rain of dead cats and stale eggs, muttered them in areporter's ear, since the hootings of the crowd made other utteranceimpossible. But ever as the contest went on, the smiling candidategrew rarer; for day by day the Tories, seeing their cause hopeless,seeing even Whigs, such as Sir Thomas Acland in Devonshire and Mr.Wilson Patten in Lancashire, cast out if they were lukewarm, grew moredesperate, cried more loudly on high heaven, asserted more franticallythat justice was dead on the earth. All this, while those who believedthat the Bill was going to give everything to everybody pushed theiradvantage without mercy. Many a borough which had not known a contestfor a generation, many a county, was fought and captured. No Tory feltsafe; no bargain, though signed and sealed, held good; no patron,though he had held his income from his borough as secure as any partof his property, could say that his voters would dare to go to thepoll.

  This last was the apprehension in the mind of Isaac White, Sir RobertVermuyden's agent, as on the day after Lady Lansdowne's visit he drovehis gig and fast-trotting cob up the avenue. The treble front of thehouse looked down on him from its gentle eminence; its windows blinkedin the afternoon sunshine, and the mellow tints of the stoneharmonised with the russet bloom which in April garbs the poplar andthe later-bursting trees. Tradition said that the second baronet hadbuilt a wing for each of his two sons. After the death of the elder,however, the east wing had been devoted to kitchens and offices, andthe west to a splendid hospitality. In these days the latter wing wasso seldom used that it had almost fallen into decay. Laurels grew upbefore the side windows and darkened them, and bats lived in the drychimneys. The rooms above stairs were packed with the lumber of thelast century, with the old wig-boxes, the old travelling-trunks, theold harpsichords, even an old sedan chair; while the lower rooms,swept and bare, and hung with flat, hard portraits, enjoyed an evilreputation in the servants' quarters, where many a one could tell ofskirts that rustled unseen, and dead feet that trod the polishedfloors.

  But to Isaac White all this was nought. He had seen the house in everyaspect; and to-day his mind was filled with other things--with votesand voters, with some anxiety on his own account and more on hispatron's. What would Sir Robert say if aught went wrong at Chippinge?True, the loss of the borough seemed barely possible; it had been heldsecurely for many years. But the times were so stormy, public feelingran so high, the mob was so rough, that nothing seemed impossible, inview of the stress to which the soundest candidates were exposed. IfMr. Bankes stood to fail in Dorset, if Mr. Duncombe had small chancein Yorkshire, if Sir Edward Knatchbull was a lost man in Kent, if Mr.Hart Davies was no better in Bristol, if no man but an out-and-outReformer could count on success, who was safe?

  White's grandfather, his father, he himself had lived and thriv
en bythe system which he saw tottering to its fall. He belonged to it, hewas part of it; did he not mark his allegiance to it by wearingtop-boots in the daytime and shorts in full dress? And he wasprepared--were it only out of gratitude to the ladder by which he hadrisen--to stand by it and by his patron to the last. But, strangeanomaly, White was at heart a Cobbett man. His sneaking sympathieswere, in his own despite, with the class from which he sprang. He sawcommons filched from the poor, while the labourers fell on the rates.He saw large taxes wrung from the country to be spent in the town. Hesaw the severity of the laws, and especially the game laws. He sawabsentee rectors and starving curates. He saw the dumb impotence ofnine-tenths of the people; and he felt that the system under whichthese things had grown up was wrong. But wrong or right, he was partof it, he was pledged to it; and all the theories in the world, andall the "Political Registers" which he digested of an evening, wouldnot induce him to betray it.

  Notwithstanding, he feared that in the matter of the borough he hadnot been quite so wide-awake as became him; or Pybus, the Bowood man,would not have stolen a march upon him. His misgivings grew as he camein sight of the door, and saw Sir Robert on the flight of steps whichled to it. Apparently the baronet had seen him, for as White drove upa servant appeared to lead the mare to the stables.

  Sir Robert looked her over as she was led away. "The grey looks well,White," he said. She was of his breeding.

  "Yes, Sir Robert. Give me a good horse and they may have thenew-fangled railroads that like them. But I am afraid, sir----"

  "One moment!" The servant was out of hearing, and the baronet's tone,as he caught White up, betrayed agitation. "Who is that looking overthe Lower Wicket, White?" he continued. "She has been there a quarterof an hour, and--and I can't make her out."

  His tone surprised White, who looked and saw at a distance of ahundred paces the figure of a woman leaning on the wicket-gate nearestthe stables. She was motionless, and he had not looked many secondsbefore he caught the thought in Sir Robert's mind. "He's heard," hereflected, "that her ladyship is in the neighbourhood, and it hasalarmed him."

  "I cannot see at this distance, sir," he answered prudently, "who itis."

  "Then go and ask her her business," Sir Robert said, as indifferentlyas he could. "She has been there a long time."

  White went, a little excited himself; but half-way to the woman, whocontinued to gaze at the house as if unconscious of his approach, hediscovered that, whoever she was, she was not Lady Sybil. She wasstout, middle-aged, plain; and he took a curt tone with her when hecame within earshot. "What are you doing here?" he said. "That's theway to the servants' hall."

  The woman looked at him. "You don't know me, Mr. White?" she said.

  He looked hard in return. "No," he answered bluntly, "I don't."

  "Ah, well, I know you," she replied. "More by token----"

  He cut her short. "Have you any message?" he asked.

  "If I have, I'll give it myself," she retorted drily. "Truth is, I'min two minds about it. What you have, you have, d'you see, Mr. White;but what you've given ain't yours any more. Anyway----"

  "Anyway," impatiently, "you can't stay here!"

  "Very good," she replied, "very good. As you are so kind, I'll take aday to think of it." And with a cool nod she turned her back on thepuzzled White, and went off down the park towards the town.

  He went back to Sir Robert. "She's a stranger, sir," he said; "and, Ithink, a bit gone in the head. I could make nothing of her."

  Sir Robert drew a deep breath. "You're sure she was a stranger?" hesaid.

  "She's no one I know, sir. After one of the men, perhaps."

  Sir Robert straightened himself. He had spent a bad ten minutes gazingat the distant figure. "Just so," he said. "Very likely. And now whatis it, White?"

  "I've bad news, sir, I'm afraid," the agent said, in an altered tone.

  "What is it?"

  "It's that d----d Pybus, sir! I'm afraid that, after all----"

  "They're going to fight?"

  "I'm afraid, Sir Robert, they are."

  The old gentleman's eyes gleamed. "Afraid, sir, afraid?" he cried. "Onthe contrary, so much the better. It will cost me some money, but Ican spare it; and it will cost them more, and nothing for it. Afraid?I don't understand you."

  The agent, standing on the step below him, coughed dubiously. "Well,sir," he said, "what you say is reasonable. But----"

  "But! But what?"

  "There is so much excitement in the country at this time----"

  "So much greediness in the country," Sir Robert retorted, striking hisstick upon the stone steps. "So much unscrupulousness, sir; so manyliars promising, and so many fools listening; so much to get, and somany who would like it! There's all that, if you please; but forexcitement, I don't know"--with a severe look--"what you mean, or whatit has to do with us."

  "I am afraid, sir, there is bad news from Devon, where it is said ourcandidate is retiring."

  "A good man, but weak; neither one side nor the other."

  "And from Dorset, sir, where they say Mr. Bankes will be beaten."

  "I'll not believe it," Sir Robert answered positively. "I'll neverbelieve it. Mr. Bankes beaten in Dorset! Absurd! Why do you listen tosuch tales? Why do you listen? By G--d, White, what is the matter withyou? Or how does it touch us if Mr. Bankes is beaten? Nine votes tofour! Nine will still be nine, and four four, if he be beaten. Whenyou can make four to be more than nine you may come whining to me!"

  White coughed. "Dyas, the butcher----"

  "What of him?"

  "Well, Sir Robert, I am afraid he has been getting some queernotions."

  "Notions?" the baronet echoed in astonishment.

  "He has been listening to someone, and--and thinks he has views on theBill."

  Sir Robert exploded. "Views!" he cried. "Views! The butcher withviews! Why, damme, White, you must be mad! Mad! Since when havebutchers taken to politics, or had views?"

  "I don't know anything about that, sir," White mumbled.

  Sir Robert struck his stick fiercely on a step. "But I do! I do! And Iknow this," he continued, "that for twenty years he's had thirtypounds a year to vote as I tell him. By gad, I never heard such athing in my life! Never! You don't mean to tell me that the man thinksthe vote's his own to do what he likes with?"

  "I am afraid," the agent admitted reluctantly, "that that is what he'ssaying, sir."

  Sir Robert's thin face turned a dull red. "I never heard of suchimpudence in all my life," he said, "never! A butcher with views! Andgoing to vote for them! Why, damme," he continued, with angry sarcasm,"we'll have the tailors, the bakers, and the candlestickmakers votingtheir own way next. Good G--d! What does the man think he's had thirtypounds a year for for all these years, if not to do as he is bid?"

  "He's behaving very ill, sir," White said, severely, "very ill."

  "Ill!" Sir Robert cried; "I should think he was, the scoundrel!" Andhe foamed over afresh, though we need not follow him. When he hadcooled somewhat, "Well," he said, "I can turn him out, and that I'lldo, neck and crop! By G--d, I will! I'll ruin him. But there, it's thebig rats set the fashion and the little ones follow it. This isSpinning Jenny's work. I wish I had cut off my hand before I voted forhim. Well, well, well!" And he stood a moment in bitter contemplationof Sir Robert Peel's depravity. It was nothing that Sir Robert wassound on reform. By adopting the Catholic side on the claims he--he,whose very nickname was Orange Peel--had rent the party. And all theseevils were the result!

  The agent coughed.

  Sir Robert, who was no fool, looked sharply at him. "What!" he saidgrimly. "Not another renegade?"

  "No, sir," White answered timidly. "But Thrush, the pig-killer--he'sone of the old lot, the Cripples, that your father put into thecorporation----"

  "Ay, and I wish I had kept them cripples." Sir Robert growled. "Allcripples! My father was right, and I was a fool to think better menwould do as well, and do us credit. In his time there were but two ofthe thirteen could read
and write; but they did as they were bid. Theydid as they were bid. And now--well, man, what of Thrush?"

  "He was gaoled yesterday by Mr. Forward, of Steynsham, for assault."

  "For how long?"

  "For a fortnight, sir."

  Sir Robert nearly had a fit. He reared himself to his full height, andglared at White. "The infernal rascal!" he cried. "He did it onpurpose!"

  "I've no doubt, sir, that it determined them to fight," the agentanswered. "With Dyas they are five. And five to seven is notsuch--such odds that they may not have some hope of winning."

  "Five to seven!" Sir Robert repeated; and at an end of words, at anend of oaths, could only stare aghast. "Five to seven!" he muttered."You're not going to tell me--there's something more."

  "No, sir, no; that's the worst," White answered, relieved that histale was told. "That's the worst, and may be bettered. I've thought itwell to postpone the nomination until Wednesday the 4th, to giveSergeant Wathen a better chance of dealing with Dyas."

  "Well, well!" Sir Robert muttered. "It has come to that. It has cometo dealing with such men as butchers, to treating them as if they hadminds to alter and views to change. Well, well!"

  And that was all Sir Robert could say. And so it was settled; theVermuyden dinner for the 2nd, the nomination and polling for the 4th."You'll let Mr. Vaughan know," Sir Robert concluded. "It's well we cancount on somebody."