Ande Trembath: A Tale of Old Cornwall England

by Matthew Stanley Kemp

He was not nearly so confident when he finished as when he began. He was beginning to realise that there was an undercurrent against him, personally. His agents had brought him word before of this, but he had placed it all down to the spirit of the reform movement. But now he was beginning to realise different. Dick Thomas and Ande's agents had not been idle in the period of the canvass. Sir James' conduct in reference to the Trembaths, to the Vivians, and his crookedness in politics, was fully aired among the voters, and those who could not be persuaded to vote against the old line policies, were moved, by the revelation of the unscrupulous conduct of Sir James, to abstain from voting at all.

There was silence when the new candidate, Andrew Trembath, arose to respond. Shaking back the tangled masses of auburn hair from his forehead, he opened his speech in clear, ringing tones. His introduction demonstrated that he had a tolerably clear perception of the issues of the day. He spoke feelingly of the popular agitation.

"These riots, this breaking of machinery, this tumult in many parts of the kingdom, to what is it due? To the spirit of reform? No. Rather is it due to the desire of the people for better conditions. The time has come when the voice of the people shall be heard, and that voice speaks in no uncertain accents. Too long has the government been in the hands of demagogues who have little to recommend them for election but corruption; and now all over this fair land of ours the people have arisen in their might, and demanded an extended suffrage. It is true, as Sir James has said, that great and good men have been returned from these pocket boroughs, but that single advantage can be offset by innumerable and inevitable disadvantages. These pocket boroughs are generally nests of corruption, held and dominated by some lord or landholder. The half a dozen or so good men that were placed in position by them can be offset by the hundreds of members that are fitter for Newgate than for the parliamentarian halls."

"Men like James Lanyan," shouted some one in the crowd.

An angry hue was on Sir James' countenance for a moment, but neither he nor Ande noticed the interruption.

"What right has a green mound in a grassy field or a hayrick to send a representative, while great and flourishing towns like Manchester and Sheffield have none?"

"Hear! Hear! Hear!" shouted many in the crowd.

Continuing, Ande took up, one by one, the arguments of the opposition, and tore them shred by shred, until not a vestige remained. Then he triumphantly drew from his pocket a perfect arsenal of facts, culled from Sir James' speech of years ago, when, turned down for a time by his own party, he sought refuge in the ideas of reform. The very facts used in his conversation with Squire Vivian, Captain Tom Lanyan and the others, when around the tea table in Lanyan Hall so many years ago, and which facts he used in a speech on the hustings at that time, were quoted now, and they were like arrows piercing his very soul. The Conservative wing were silent with consternation, and Sir James looked down, uneasily. Then turning to the record of Sir James in the Commons, he quoted how he had again and again voted against the will of his constituents. Then after a few, withering flights of oratory, which sent the Radicals wild with delight and chilled the Conservatives into icy stillness, he said:

"And now, members of the Conservative wing, you are going to vote for a man who has uttered sentiments like these, and acted in this manner. I need not speak to the members of my own party, I know their determination for good government, but to you Conservatives. You are going to vote for a man who has thus betrayed your sacred trust and thus surrendered your standards to the enemy. What does all his actions and speaking amount to in your minds? Just this, that though he is an experienced hand, yet you know not what he stands for. Like a vacillating weather vane, he is apt to be turned one way or the other as the interests of Sir James Lanyan may direct."

There was an uproarious "Hear! Hear!" from the Radicals, and the black looks that the Conservatives turned on Sir James were perceived by even that worthy himself. He shrugged his shoulders and took on his indifferent and placid expression. But Andrew Trembath was not through yet, for he continued bringing up clause after clause of Sir James' speeches, sweeping the audience fairly off its feet with a torrent of indignant oratory such as it had never before heard. All the poetry in his nature, all the passion of years of wrong heaped upon his family, burst forth then and there. There was no more applause from any in that assemblage, for they were all so enthralled that they hung upon each word uttered, riveted their eyes upon each gesture, and remained motionless like a painted throng. Then turning from indignant invective, he gazed lovingly over the Bowling Green and swept his vision around toward the town, and his eyes became misty with emotion.