by R S Surtees
“Gentlemen,” continued the Marquis, addressing himself to the male sex alone, “you are met here this day, as our worthy High Sheriff has told you, to exercise one of the most important privileges of life — that of choosing a representative of your opinions in the House of Commons; and in proportion to the magnitude of the occasion ought to be the vigilance and circumspection of your conduct in the exercise of so sacred a trust. (Great applause.) It may appear almost superfluous in one, born and bred among you, whose ancestors have ever been conspicuous in the cause of legitimate improvement and good government, to enter into any lengthened explanation of his political opinions.”
“Quite superfluous! quite superfluous!” exclaimed Mr. Smoothington.
“Quite superfluous! quite superfluous!” repeated Joshua Sneakington, and several others behind.’
“My political opinions,” continued the Marquis, “are the political opinions that in bygone days were wont to secure the confidence of the freeholders in those who have gone before me — opinions from which no member of my family has ever swerved, and which I trust — confidently trust — will secure me the honour of your support.” (Great cheering.)
“True it is,” continued his lordship, “that the god of corn,” turning towards Mr. Jorrocks, “impelled by the fear of alarmists, and perhaps the mischief of the frolicsome, has decked himself out in wheat-ears and poppies.”
“There ar’nt no poppies in the case!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks, adjusting his bouquet, adding aloud to himself—” who ever see’d poppies at this time of year?”
“Has decked himself out in wheat-ears,” bowed the Marquis, “and stands forward as the farmers’ friend; but who, gentlemen, I ask you, is more likely to be truly and sincerely the farmers’ friend than the humble individual now addressing you, and whose every interest is identified with agriculture — whose best hopes are centred in the soil (tremendous applause). Agriculture, gentlemen, is a pursuit that has been fostered and encouraged by the greatest men, by all whom the page of history records as famous in the annals of countries (great applause). The greatest statesmen, the greatest scholars, the greatest generals have each found, in turning from their schemes of government, their studies, or the toil of warfare, solace and enjoyment in the harmless simplicity and the interesting relaxation it affords (renewed applause). Every man whose opinion is valuable — every man whose breast glows with a genuine feeling of patriotism, joins in testifying the importance of agriculture.” Immense applause, followed by Mr. Wopstraw drawling out —
“Upon the who-o-le, I think I’ve heard that before.”
This rather put the Marquis out, and in the hubbub that ensued he got time to collect himself and turn on another tack.
“Gentlemen,” said he, “the only point of difference, as you are perhaps aware, between my honourable competitor and myself is that of corn. On all other questions I believe our opinions coincide, and, but for this solitary question, the god of corn would have followed our banner, with most likely the majority of his supporters. Far be it from me, gentlemen, to treat with levity the honest, conscientious fears and opinions of any class of men, unfounded and groundless though I believe them to be. Recall to your recollection, gentlemen, the panic that prevailed on the importation of foreign cattle! see how visionary were your views and conjectures then! The same, I venture to predict, will be the case with the importation of foreign corn. It will come in; your fears will pass away, or will only be remembered as matter of surprise — surprise that you could so blindly have stood in the way of your own interest.” (Loud applause from the whisker-chinites, and cries of “No, no,” from the drab coats.)
“Upon the who-o-le, the climate’s against us,” drawled Wopstraw.
“The farmers are not the only parties called upon to make a sacrifice,” continued the Marquis, “if any sacrifice there is to be. Every article of consumption, every article of wear — the hat on your head — the shoe on your foot — will come down in price, and all things accommodate themselves to the new era (loud applause). If farmers yield the trifling duty on corn, a duty that many of the most intelligent of their body consider is no protection whatever, they, in their turn, will have the duty taken off seeds, and they will get their canary-seed, their aniseed, their grass-seed, their mustard-seed, their parsley-seed, and my friend the god of corn will even get his poppy-seed duty free (great laughter and applause). So the housekeeper will get her spices — her cloves, her ginger, her mace, her nutmegs, her cinnamon, and her pepper. And you, my fair friends,” continued the Marquis, addressing himself to the ladies, “you will get your ermine, your chinchilla, your swanskins without a tax. Silks, velvets, and sarcenets will come in at continental prices; and gauzes, tulles, crapes, and lawns no longer continue matters of luxury” (great applause and waving of handkerchiefs). “All things,” continued the Marquis, “will he placed upon a new footing, and the dawn of that young and stirring mind which so engages the attention of the public will burst upon the astonished world in all the splendour of meridian day (immense applause).
But beyond — far beyond — all these considerations will be the feeling of patriotism the act will engender.
You will be the poor man’s friend — you will invest the poor man’s home with plenty — you will bring joy and gladness to his humble hearth — you will convert the squalid victims of penurious fare into stalwart sons of Albion’s isle, and cause the
‘Happy tenant of a humble shed,
To smile at the storm that whistles o’er his head.’”
His lordship concluded amidst the most uproarious demonstrations of applause.
When they had subsided, a loud cry was raised for Mr. Jorrocks, who, on hearing the Marquis break off about the greatest statesmen, the greatest generals, and so on, had availed himself of the opportunity for retiring to the back of the hustings to drink a glass of brandy-and-water, and he had now got blocked out. Mr. Heavytail having made way for him, our friend at length showed at the front, and was greeted with loud cheers from his own supporters, and the most discordant yells and hisses from the Marquis’s party. Silence being at length restored, he essayed to proceed.
“Gen’lmen,” said he, looking very indignantly at a knot of hissers who still kept interrupting; “gen’lmen,” said he, “afore I opens my private account with you, I wish to make a few obserwations on a few of the obserwations that have been made upon me. I doosn’t like Captain Bluster’s speech; he had no business to speak o’ me in the way he did. He looked at me, too, jest as if I was a bag o’ guano. It wasn’t the ticket at all. I’m sure when we’ve had anything to transact together, any fifth o’ George the Fourth, or anything of that sort, he’s always found me quite agreeable — quite the lady, and I don’t think he had any business to ax in sich a himperent tone who I was. I pays every man twenty shillins in the pund, and I never heard no one’s respectability doubted wot did that (applause). I’ve been brought here at a great personal sacrifice, both of cash and comfort, to fight the battle of the farmers — and fight it I will.”
“That’s reet, ard ‘un!” exclaimed Pigg; adding, “Three cheers for t’ard Squire!”
Three tremendous huzzas followed. When they were done, the Marquis’s party gave three cheers for the Marquis.
“I’ve been brought here,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “by a great lot o’ farmers; they came and ‘unted me out at my ‘ouse at ‘ome, and would have me. That shows the hopinion they ‘ave of me. I never axed to be made Parliament man of. The farmers came and said that they were like to be beggared, and axed if I would stand quietly by and see ’em? (Loud applause.) I said, the farmers and I rowed in the same boat — that wot was bad for them would be bad for me, and wice wersa (cheers). The Captain talked as if the guano and nitrate o’ sober dodge was all the Duke’s; but I appeals to those around me, if guano, nitrate o’ sober, or any of them hartificial compounds ‘ave a more hardent — a more enthusiastic supporter nor myself!”
“Upon the who-o-o-le, I shoul
d say not,” drawled Johnny Wopstraw.
“MUCK’S YOUR MAY!” roared Pigg.
“Nay, more,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “I did wot the Duke never did — I inwented a machine of a most wonderful capacity. A machine that I really dirsn’t set a goin’ for fear it should swamp field labour altogether. I mentions that to show that I’m a practical farmer and a friend to the poor. My friend the Markis,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “has-made you a werry beautiful hoily oration — one wot called forth the applause both of pit and boxes,” Mr. Jorrocks looking towards the carriages and balcony in which the ladies were ranged. “It’s the privilege of young gen’lmen in ringlets and primrose-coloured gloves to obtain the plaudits o’ the fair sex — fine flowery language is sure to find customers with them. Now, I may fearlessly say that the ladies haven’t a more hardent admirer nor I am; but gen’lmen like myself, of maturer years, must rest our claims to public favour upon the broader and better basis of sound sense rather than of heloquence.” (Laughter, hisses, and applause, above which Pigg’s “Gan it, ard ‘un! Jorrocks for ever!” rose conspicuous.)
“My noble friend — for friend I must still call him, for he gave me the most unimpeachable bull wotever adorned ring and chain — my noble friend, I say, in the plenitude of his humour, has christened me the god o’ corn; but I will tell my noble friend that hargument is as far above heloquence as corn is afore flowers (cheers). We can do werry well without flowers, but corn we must ‘ave. It sounds werry well talking about bein’ the poor man’s friend, but I say he is the best poor man’s friend wot gives him a good day’s pay for a good day’s work (applause). Yot signifies it to the poor man gettin’ a heightpenny loaf for fourpence if he has not fourpence to buy it with?” (Renewed applause.)
“Gan it, ard ‘un!” exclaimed Pigg; adding, with a grin and shake of his head, “a sink, but he’s a good ‘un to jaw!”
“Then I would like to ax my noble friend,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “’ow he thinks to improve the breed o’ the ‘uman race, if he makes us poor farmers lay our land down to grass or pine-apples, throwin’ the corn-trade into the hands of mouncheer, and drivin’ the chaws into mills and print-works. Wot ‘un a man, for instance, would Mr.’Eavytail ‘ave been,” asked Mr. Jorrocks, patting Mr. Heavytail’s broad back as the latter stood beside him, “wot ‘un a man would Mr.’Eavytail ha’ been if he’d been brought up a shuttle-weaver?” (Loud applause.)
“I am old enough, gen’lmen, to remember the time,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “when that great man, Napoleon Bonaparte — a man whose werry name worked one wuss nor a whole box o’ Morrison’s pills — I’m old enough, I say, gen’lmen, to remember the time when that great man, in the plenitude of his imperence, climbed up the column on Boulogne ‘eights, and shakin’ his mawley at England, swore he’d pitch into her like twenty thousand ‘ bricks.” (Roars of laughter and applause, Mr. Jorrocks suiting the action to the word, and menacing the crowd with his fist.)
“Then, gen’lmen,” continued he, “my frind Good’eart and my frind Wopstraw — John Jorrocks himself — all the true and undeniable tramps — rose to a man, and swore we’d be blank’d if he should!”
Roars of laughter and applause followed this delicate announcement, which were again roused by Johnny Wopstraw drawling out, “Upon the wh-o-o-le, I wasn’t, a soldier!”
“Who knows,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, without noticing the observation, “who knows but the Prince de Johnville or Prince de Tomville, or whatever they call the chap, may brew up another storm, and in the row and racket that ensues, who knows but another Napoleon le grand may turn to the top, who’ll swear that we shalln’t ‘ave another grain o’ corn from the Continent? Then, gen’lmen, if you’ve laid your land down to grass, and turned your stout yeomanry into stockin’ makers, who’s to supply us with bread? and where are you to find Good’earts to wop Johnny Crapaud? (Thunders of applause, lasting for some seconds.)
“Wot consolation will it be to the starvin’ population for frind John Bright to point to his many-windowed ware’ouse, and say, ‘Oh, never mind, my ‘earties! that’s chock-full o’ calico at a penny a yard’?” (Renewed applause.)
“Gen’lmen, I can’t eat calico,” observed Mr. Jorrocks, with uplifted hands, amidst the most outrageous laughter.
“Nor I nouther!” roared Pigg, stuffing a fresh quid into his mouth.
“Gen’lmen,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, “cheap bread’s a capital cry, but wot’s the use o’ cheap bread to the poor man, if he ham’t got no money to buy it with?” (Great applause, with cries of “That’s the rub!”
“Go it, Jorrocks!”
“Now another!”)
“Bambazeens and sarc’nets, wot the Markis promises so cheap, will not compensate for the want o’ wittles! ‘You take my life when you take the means whereby I lives,’ observes Hudibras, or some other gen’lman; and you’ll destroy the ‘usbandman if you annihilate hagriculture.
“My noble frind talked about the legitimate laws o’ natur’ and close-fisted somethin’,” observed Mr. Jorrocks. “I’m more a fifth o’ George the Fourth than a law o’ natiir’ man, but it strikes me if the manufacturers want to try a new system, they should pay the National Debt off, and let’s all start fair, as the parson said to the Cornish wreckers as he stole down from the pulpit.
“I think, gen’lmen,” continued Mr. Jorrocks, after a pause, “that’s about all I’ve got to say to you. It’s for you to say whether you prefer the luxtery o’ cheap bambazeen and carraway-seeds for nothin’, or the old English beef and barley loaves of our forefathers. It’s true the Markis has some werry pretty gals on his side; howsomever, it’s fortinate they haven’t got no wotes, otherwise they’d a been sure to have been given in the ‘aberdashery line. As it is, we’ll have a fair stand-hup fight for it; and as the great Tom Spring would say,’
‘May the best man vin!’”
Mr. Jorrocks concluded an animated address by throwing up his hat amid very general applause.
An artisan, in his working dress, with a leather apron tucked round his waist, and a faded green neckcloth about his neck (an active member of the Sellborough Anti-Corn-Law League), here climbed on to the hustings, and intimated that he wanted to ask Mr. Jorrocks a few questions.
“Questins!” exclaimed our Squire, eyeing him with surprise. “Questins! I don’t think,” added he, pulling out his watch and looking at it; “I don’t think I’m a goin’ to answer no questins.”
“Not answer any!” repeated the man with surprise.
“No,” replied Mr. Jorrocks; adding, “I’ve got a Muscovey duck for dinner, and I’m afeard it’ll be overdone.”
“Well,” observed the man in astonishment, “I certainly shalln’t vote for you!”
“P’raps you wouldn’t ha’ done that anyhow,” replied our Squire.
“Upon the wh-o-o-le, he hasn’t got a vote,” observed Wopstraw.
“Ye come down there!” cried Pigg, giving the fellow a thump on the head with his flagstaff; adding, “de ye think a Parliament man has nought to de but talk to such rubbish as ye? Grou whiskers on your chin like Ginger toppin’ yonder, if ye maun make yersel conspikious.”
The High Sheriff then called for a show of hands. A forest of them was immediately held up for the Marquis, amid thunders of applause, waving of handkerchiefs, and rolling of drums. The Sheriff then called upon those who were for Mr. Jorrocks to hold up theirs.
A very small number appeared in comparison to what were held up for the Marquis; and after the roars of applause the triumph produced had subsided, the Sheriff declared the show to have fallen in favour of his lordship.
“AR DEMAND A POLL!” roared Heavytail, with such a thump of the fist on the hustings as would have felled an ox.
CHAPTER XLVII.
“FOR WHOM DO you poll?”
IN LESS THAN an hour the late densely-crowded town was occupied only by its own inhabitants, and the few drunken topers who filled the public-houses — men who, at election times,
drank from week’s end to week’s end. The Marquis set off in great glee to Donkeyton Castle, accompanied by the party who attended him in the morning, to tell the victory of the day: and the farmers quietly got their horses, and wended their way home by twos or by threes, as occasion suited.
“Upon the who-o-ole I think the Marquis’ll be hard to beat,” observed Wopstraw, as he mounted his mealy-muzzled bay.
“We mun never despair!” replied Willey Goodheart. “I always said in Boney’s time, it’s never no use being afraid. I really believe, if the French had thought we were frightened, they’d have come over and ate us all up; terrible people for eatin’, they say.”
“We must stir ourselves to a man,” said John Brick, clattering away, much to the astonishment of his great black horse.
Many a heavy-heeled carter went home at an unusual pace that day. —
