Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3.

by Samuel Warren

At length dawned the day which was to determine how far Yatton was worthy or unworthy of the boon which had been conferred upon it by the glorious Bill for giving Everybody Everything—which was to witness the maiden contest between the two hopeful scions of the noble and ancient houses of Dreddlington and De la Zouch—on which it was to be ascertained whether Yatton was to be bought and sold, like any other article of merchandise, by a bitter old boroughmonger; or to signalize itself by its spirit and independence, in returning one who avowed, and would support, the noble principles which secured the passing of the Great Bill which has been so often alluded to. As for my hero, Mr. Titmouse, it gives me pain to have to record—making even all due allowance for the excitement occasioned by so exhilarating an occasion—that during the canvass, there were scarcely two hours in the day during which he could be considered as sober. He generally left his bed about eleven o'clock in the morning—about two o'clock, reached his committee-room—there he called for a bottle or two of soda-water, with brandy; and, thus supported, set out on his canvass, and never refused an invitation to take a glass of ale, at the houses which he visited. About the real business of the election—about his own true position and prospects—Gammon never once deigned to consult or instruct him; but had confined himself to the preparation of a very short and simple speech, to be delivered by Titmouse, if possible, from the hustings, and which he had made that gentleman copy out many times, and promise that he would endeavor to learn off by heart. He might as well, however, have attempted to walk up the outside of the Monument!

Merrily rang the bells of Grilston church on the election morning, by order of the vicar, the Reverend Gideon Fleshpot, who was a stanch Titmousite, and had long cast a sort of sheep's eye upon the living of Yatton; for he was nearly twenty years younger than its present possessor, Dr. Tatham. What a bustle was there in the town by eight o'clock! All business was to be suspended for the day. Great numbers from the places adjacent began to pour into the town about that hour. It was soon seen who was the popular candidate—he whose colors were yellow; for wherever you went, yellow cockades, rosettes, and button-ties for the men, and yellow ribbons for the girls, yellow flags and yellow placards with "Titmouse for Yatton!" met the eye. Mr. Delamere's colors were a deep blue, but were worn, I am sorry to say, by only one in four or five of those who were stirring about; and who, moreover, however respectable, and in appearance superior to the adherents of Titmouse, yet wore no such look of confidence and cheerfulness as they. From the bow-window of the Hare and Hounds, Mr. Delamere's headquarters, streamed an ample and very rich blue silk banner, on which was worked, in white silk, the figure of a Bible, Crown, and Sceptre, and the words, "Delamere for Yatton." This would have probably secured some little favorable notice from his sullen and bitter opponents, had they known that it had been the workmanship of some fifteen of as sweet beautiful girls as could have been picked out of the whole county of York; and, by the way, 'tis a singular and melancholy sign of the times, that beauty, innocence, and accomplishment, are in England to be found uniformly arrayed on the side of tyranny and corruption, against the people. Then Mr. Delamere's band was equal to three such as that of his opponent—playing with equal precision and power: and, what was more, they played very bold, enlivening tunes as they paraded the town. There was one feature of the early proceedings of the day, that was rather singular and significant: viz. that though all the members of the formidable Quaint Club were stirring about, not one of them wore the colors of either party, though (between ourselves) each man had the colors of both parties in his pocket. They appeared studiously to abstain from a display of party feeling—though several of them could not resist a leering wink of the eye when the yellow band went clashing past them. They also had a band, which went about the town, preceded by their own standard—a very broad sheet of sky-blue, stretched between two poles, supported by two men; and the droll device it bore, was—an enormous man's face, with an intense squint, and two hands, with the thumbs of each resting on the nose, and the fingers spread out towards the beholder. It produced—as it seemed designed to produce—shouts of laughter wherever it made its appearance. Every member of the Quaint Club, however, wore a grave face; as if they were the only persons who appreciated the nature of the exalted functions which they were entitled, and about to exercise. No one could tell which way they intended to vote, though all expected that they were to come in at the last, and place the yellows in a triumphant majority of a hundred, at least. Though it had been a matter of notoriety that they were Mr. Titmouse's men, before Mr. Delamere appeared in the field; yet, since then, they had suddenly exhibited a politic and persevering silence and reserve, even among their personal friends and acquaintance. The yellow band performed one feat which was greatly applauded by the yellow crowd which attended them, and evidenced the delicacy by which those who guided their movements were actuated: viz. they frequently passed and repassed Mr. Delamere's committee-room, playing that truly inspiriting air, "The Rogue's March." Then the yellows dressed up a poor old donkey in Mr. Delamere's colors, which were plentifully attached to the animal's ears and tail, and paraded him, with great cheering, before the doors of the Hare and Hounds, and Mr. Delamere's principal friends and adherents. Nay—one of the more vivacious of the crowd threw a stone at a little corner window of the blue committee-room, through which it went smashing on its way, till it hit and overturned the inkstand of calm Mr. Crafty, who sat alone in the little room, busy at work with pen, ink, and paper. He looked up for a moment, called for a fresh inkstand, and presently resumed his pen, as if nothing had happened.

The hustings were erected upon a very convenient and commodious green, at the southern extremity of the town; and thither might be seen, first on its way, a little after eleven o'clock, the procession of the popular candidate—Mr. Titmouse. Here and there might be heard, as he passed, the startling sounds of mimic ordnance, fired by little boys from house-tops. As they passed the church, its bells rang their merriest peal; and, at a little distance farther on, the little boys of Mr. Hic Hæc Hoc, each with a small rosette tied to his jacket, struck up a squeaking and enthusiastic "hurrah!" while from the upper windows, the young ladies (three in number) of Mrs. Hic Hæc Hoc's "establishment," waved their little white pocket-handkerchiefs. Next on their way, they passed the "Reverend" Smirk Mudflint's chapel, which was in very queer contiguity to an establishment of a very queer character—in fact, adjoining it. Against the upper part of the chapel hung a device calculated to arrest, as it did arrest, universal attention—viz. an inverted copy of the New Testament; over it, the figure of a church turned upside down, with the point of its steeple resting on the word "Revelation;" and upon the aforesaid church stood proudly erect an exact representation of Mr. Smirk Mudflint's chapel, over which were the words—"Freedom of Opinion! and Truth Triumphant!" But I do not know whether another device, worked by Miss Mudflint—a skinny, tallow-faced, and flinty-hearted young lady of nine-and-twenty—was not still more striking and original; viz. a Triangle and an Eye with rays, and the words—"Titmouse! Truth! Peace!" Three cheers for Mr. Mudflint were given here; and Mr. Mudflint bowed all round with an air of proud excitement—feeling, moreover, an intense desire to stop the procession and make a speech, while opposite to his own little dunghill.

First in the procession marched a big fellow with one eye, bearing a flag, with a red cap on a pike, and the words, in large black characters—

"Titmouse or Death!!!

"Let Tyrants Tremble!!!!"

Then came the band, and next to them walked—Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., dressed exactly as he was when he encountered, in their canvass, the party of his opponent, as I have already described—only that he wore a yellow rosette, attached to a button-hole on the left side of his drab great-coat. His protuberant light blue eyes danced with delight, and his face was flushed with excitement. His hat was off and on every moment, in acknowledgment of the universal salutations which greeted him, and which so occupied him that he even forgot to use his eyeglass. On his left hand walked, wrapped up in a plain dark-hued great-coat, a somewhat different person—Mr. Gammon. The expression which his features wore was one of intense anxiety; and any tolerably close observer might have detected the mortification and disgust with which his eye occasionally glanced at, and was as suddenly withdrawn from, the figure of the grinning idiot beside him. Who do you think, reader, walked on Mr. Titmouse's right-hand side? Sir Harkaway Rotgut Wildfire, Baronet; whose keen political feelings, added to a sincere desire to secure a chance of his daughter's becoming the mistress of Yatton, had long ago obliterated all unkindly recollection of Mr. Titmouse's gross conduct on a former occasion, after having received, through the medium of Mr. Bloodsuck, senior, as a common friend, a satisfactory apology. Next walked Mr. Titmouse's mover and seconder, the "Reverend" Mr. Mudflint, and Going Gone, "Esquire." Then came Mr. Centipede and Mr. Woodlouse, Mr. Grogram and Mr. Ginblossom; Mr. Gargle Glister, Mr. Barnabas Bloodsuck, and Mr. Hic Hæc Hoc; and others of the leading friends of Mr. Titmouse, followed by some two hundred of others, two and two. Thus passed along the main street of Grilston, in splendid array, what might too truly have been called the triumphal procession of the popular candidate; his progress being accompanied by the enlivening music of his band, the repeated acclamations of the excited and intelligent crowd, the waving of banners and flags below, and handkerchiefs and scarfs from the ladies at the windows, and desperate strugglings from time to time, on the part of the crowd, to catch a glimpse of Mr. Titmouse. Mr. Gammon had the day before judiciously hired ten pounds' worth of mob—a device alone sufficient to have made Mr. Titmouse the popular candidate, and it now told excellently; for the aforesaid ten pounds' worth disposed itself in truly admirable order, in front of the hustings—and, on Mr. Titmouse's making his appearance there, set up a sudden and enthusiastic shout, which rent the air, and was calculated to strike dismay into the heart of the enemy. Mr. Titmouse, on gaining the hustings, changed color visibly, and, coming in front, took off his glossy hat, and bowed repeatedly in all directions. Mr. Delamere's procession was of a vastly superior description, yet too palpably that of the unpopular candidate—every member of it from first to last, having made up his mind to encounter incivility, and even insult, however really anxious to avoid the slightest occasion for it. The band was numerous, and played admirably. There was a profusion of gay and handsome flags and banners. Mr. Delamere walked next to the musicians, with a gallant bearing, a gay and cheerful smile, yet oft darkened by anxiety as he perceived indubitable symptoms of a disposition to rough treatment on the part of the crowd. On his right-hand side walked Mr. St. Aubyn; on his left, Sir Percival Pickering, the late member for the borough. Following them came Mr. Gold, the banker, and Mr. Milnthorpe, an extensive and highly-respectable flour factor—these being Mr. Delamere's mover and seconder: and they were followed by at least three hundred others, two and two, all of a substantial and respectable appearance, and most resolute air, to boot. No amount of mob, that day, in Grilston, would have ventured an attack, in passing, upon that stout-hearted body of yeomen. A great many white handkerchiefs were waved from the windows, as Delamere passed along—waved by the hands of hundreds of fair creatures, whose hearts throbbed with fond fears lest an unoffending gentleman should be maltreated by the reckless mob. When Mr. Delamere approached a certain prominent window, opposite to the town hall, his heart began to beat quickly. There were four as beautiful and high-born young women as England could have produced, all gazing down upon him with eager and anxious looks. It was not they, however, who occasioned Mr. Delamere's emotion. He knew that in that room was Lady De la Zouch—his mother; and he grew silent and excited as he approached it. One of the loveliest of the four, as he stopped and with respectful bow looked up for an instant—Lady Alethea Lorymer—suddenly and quite unexpectedly stepped aside; and there stood revealed the figure of Lady De la Zouch. She would have waved her handkerchief, but that she required it to conceal her emotion. The lips of neither mother nor son moved; but their hearts uttered reciprocal benedictions—and Delamere passed on. As he neared the church, I regret to have it to put on record, but at the bidding of the Reverend Gideon Fleshpot, the bells tolled as for a funeral!!

Could anything have been more lamentable and disgusting? If the sudden and unexpected sight of his mother had been calculated in any degree to subdue, for a moment, his feelings, what ensued within a minute or two afterwards was sufficient to excite his sternest mood; for as soon as ever the head of his procession became visible to the crowd on the green, there arose a tremendous storm of yelling, hooting, hissing, and groaning: and when Mr. Delamere made his appearance in front of the hustings, you might have imagined that you were witnessing the reception given to some loathsome miscreant mounting the gallows to expiate with his life a hideous and revolting crime. He advanced, nevertheless, with a smile of cheerful resolution and good-humor, though he changed color a little; and, taking off his hat, bowed in all directions. Gracious Heaven! what a contrast he presented to his popular rival, Mr. Titmouse, who stood grinning and winking to the wretches immediately underneath, evidently with a spiteful gratification at the treatment which his opponent was experiencing. Any one on the hustings or in the crowd had but to call out "Three cheers for Mr. Titmouse!" to be instantly obeyed; then "Three groans for the young boroughmonger!" were responded to with amazing vehemence and effect. Viewed from a distance sufficient to prevent your observing the furious faces of the dense mob, and hearing the opprobrious epithets which were levelled against the unpopular candidate, the scene appeared both interesting and exciting. On the outskirts of the crowd were to be seen a great number of carriages, both close and open, principally occupied by ladies—and I need hardly say who was the favorite in those quarters. Then the rival bands moved continually about, playing well-known national airs; while the banners and flags, blue and yellow, heightened the exhilarating and picturesque effect of the whole. The hustings were strong and commodious; Mr. Titmouse and his friends stood on the right, Mr. Delamere and his friends on the left side. He was dressed in a simple dark blue surtout and plain black stock. He was tall, elegant, and easy in his person, appearance, and gestures; his countenance was prepossessing, and bespoke a little excitement, which did not, however, obscure its good-nature. And beside him stood his mover and seconder, Mr. Gold and Mr. Milnthorpe: the two late members; and about twenty or thirty other gentlemen—the whole party forming such a strong contrast to their opponents, as must have challenged any one's observation in an instant. Titmouse stood in the centre, leaning (as he supposed) gracefully, against the front bar; on his right stood the burly, slovenly figure of Sir Harkaway Rotgut Wildfire, with his big, bloated, blotchy face: on Mr. Titmouse's left stood his proposer, the "Reverend" Smirk Mudflint. His lean, sallow face wore a very disagreeable and bitter expression, which was aggravated by a sinister cast of one of his eyes. He was dressed in black, with a white neckerchief and no shirt-collar. Next to him stood Going Gone, Esq., Mr. Titmouse's seconder, with a ruddy complexion, light hair, a droll eye, and an expression of coarse but by no means ill-natured energy. Gammon stood immediately behind Titmouse, into whose ear he whispered frequently and anxiously. There were also the Reverend Gideon Fleshpot, (though he evidently did not wish to make himself conspicuous,) Mr. Glister, Mr. Grogram, Mr. Woodlouse, Mr. Centipede, Mr. Ginblossom, Mr. Hic Hæc Hoc, the Messrs. Bloodsuck, father and son—and other "leading Liberals." The business of the day having been opened, with the ordinary formalities, by the returning officer, he earnestly besought the assembled multitude to remember that they were Englishmen, and to give both parties fair play, allowing every one who might address them from the hustings, to be heard without serious interruption. It had been arranged between the two committees that Mr. Titmouse should be first proposed; and the moment, therefore, that the returning officer ceased speaking, the "Reverend" Mr. Mudflint took off his hat and prepared to address the "electors;" but he had to wait for at least three minutes, in order that the applause with which he had been greeted might subside; during which little anxious interval, he could not help directing towards his opponents a look of bitter exultation. He spoke with the self-possession, fluency, and precision of a practised public speaker. If the day's proceedings were to take their tone from that of the opening speech, 't was a thousand pities that it had fallen to the lot of the "Reverend" Mr. Mudflint to deliver it. He had so clear a voice, spoke with such distinctness and deliberation, and amid such silence, that every word he uttered was audible all over the crowd; and anything more unchristian, uncourteous, unfair, towards his opponents, and calculated to excite towards them the hatred of the crowd, could hardly have been conceived. In what offensive and indecent terms he spoke of the Established Church and its ministers! of the aristocracy, ("those natural tyrants," he said,) and indeed of all the best and time-hallowed institutions of dear glorious old England—which might, by the way, well blush to own such a creature as he, as one entitled by birth to call himself one of her sons! How he hailed the approaching downfall of "priest-craft" and "king-craft!"—"A new light," he said, "was diffusing itself over benighted mankind—'t was the pure and steady light of Reason, and all filthy things were flying from before it," (immense cheers followed the announcement of this important and interesting fact.) "The Bible," he said, "was a book of excellent common sense; and nothing but villanous priestcraft had attempted to torture and dislocate it into all sorts of fantastic mysteries, which led to rank idolatry and blasphemy, equally revolting to God and man." (Perceiving, from the coolness with which it was received, that this was going a little too rapidly a-head, he dropped that subject altogether, and soon regained the ear of his audience, by descanting in very declamatory and inflammatory terms upon the resplendent victory which the people had recently gained in the glorious Bill for giving Everybody Everything.) "They had burst their bonds with a noble effort; but their chains would be quickly re-riveted, unless they followed up their advantage, and never stopped short of crushing a heartless, tyrannical, and insolent oligarchy; unless the people were now true to themselves, and returned to the House of Commons men resolved to watch over the energies of reviving liberty, lest they should be strangled in their way—(the remainder of the sentence was inaudible in the storm of applause which it excited.) Under these circumstances, Providence itself had pointed out an individual whom he was proud and happy to propose to their notice—(here he turned and bowed to Mr. Titmouse, who, plucking off his hat, bobbed in return, amid the deafening cheers of all before them, to whom also he bowed repeatedly.) A gentleman who seemed, as it were, made for them; who, in his own person, might be said to afford a lively illustration of the regeneration of society—who, to borrow for a moment an absurd word from his opponents, had by a sort of miracle (with what an infernal emphasis he pronounced this word!) been placed where he was, in his present proud position; who had totally and happily changed the whole aspect of affairs in the neighborhood, which had already become the scene of his profuse and yet discriminating generosity and hospitality; who stood in bright and bold relief from out a long gloomy line of ancestors, all of whom, he lamented to say, had lived and died in enmity to the people, and had distinguished themselves by nothing except their bigotry, and hatred of civil and religious liberty. Mr. Titmouse was the first of his ancient family to claim the proud title of the—Man of the People. (Here a voice called out, 'three cheers for Mr. Titmouse!'—which were given spontaneously, and most effectively.) His 'Address' was worthy of him—it did equal honor to his head and his heart, (it is impossible to describe the smile which here just glanced over the countenance of Mr. Gammon,) touching nothing that it did not adorn—at once bold, explicit, comprehensive, and uncompromising!—He had had the felicity of enjoying the acquaintance, he might venture perhaps to say, the friendship, of Mr. Titmouse, since he had taken up his abode at the home of his ancestors, and very proud was he—Mr. Mudflint—to be able to say so. He could assure the electors, from his own personal knowledge of Mr. Titmouse, that they would have cause to be proud of their future representative—of the choice which they were about to make. (Here the worthy speaker had some sudden misgivings as to the display likely to be made by Titmouse, when it came to his turn to address the electors:—so he added in rather a subdued tone)—It was true that they might not have, in Mr. Titmouse, a magpie in the House, (laughter,) a mere chatterer—much cry and little wool; they had had enough of mere speechifiers at St. Stephen's—but they would have a good working member, (cheers;) one always at his post in the hour of danger, (cheers;) a good committee-man, and one whose princely fortune rendered him independent of party and of the blandishments of power. In the language of the ancient poet (!) Mr. Mudflint would exclaim on such an occasion; 'Facta, non verba quæro,' (great cheering.) And now a word for his opponent, (groans.) He was a mere puppet, held in the hands of some one out of sight, (laughter,)—it might be of a base old boroughmonger, (groans)—who sought to make Yatton a rotton borough, (hisses,) a stepping-stone to ascendency in the county, (Cries of 'Will he though, lad, eh?') who would buy and sell them like slaves, (hisses,) and would never rest satisfied till he had restored the intolerable old vassalage of feudalism, (groans and hisses here burst forth from that enlightened assemblage, at the bare idea of anything so frightful.) He meant nothing personally offensive to the honorable candidate—but was he worthy of a moment's serious notice? (great laughter.) Had he an opinion of his own? (loud laughter.) Had he not better, to use the language of a book that was much misunderstood, tarry at Jerusalem (!!!) till his beard was grown? Was he not, in fact, a nonentity unworthy of a reasonable man's attention? Was he not reeking from Oxford, (groans,) that hotbed of pedantic ignorance and venerable bigotry, (hootings,) surrounded by a dismal and lurid halo of superstition?" (groaning and hooting.)

Finer and finer was Mr. Mudflint becoming every moment as he warmed with his subject—but unfortunately his audience was beginning very unequivocally to intimate that they were quite satisfied with what they had already heard. A cry, for instance, issued from the crowd—"the rest of my discoorse next Sunday!"—for they knew that they were being kept all this while from one of their greatest favorites, Mr. Going Gone, who had also himself been latterly rather frequently and significantly winking his eye at those before him, and shrugging his shoulders. Mr. Mudflint, therefore, with feelings of vivid vexation, pique, and envy, concluded rather abruptly by proposing Tittlebat Titmouse, Esquire, of Yatton, as a fit and proper person to represent them in Parliament. Up went hats into the air, and shouts of the most joyous and enthusiastic description rent the air for several minutes. Then took off his hat the jolly Mr. Going Gone—a signal for roars of laughter, and cries of coarse and droll welcome, in expectancy of fun. Nor were they disappointed. He kept them in good-humor and fits of laughter during the whole of his "Address;" and though destitute of any pretence to refinement, I must at the same time say, that there were to be detected in it no traces of ill-nature. He concluded by seconding the nomination of Mr. Titmouse, amid tumultuous cheers; and after waiting for some few minutes, in order that they might subside, Mr. Gold took off his hat, and essayed to address the crowd. Now he really was, what he looked, an old man of unaffected and very great good-humor, and a benevolence which was extensive, and systematic. He had only the week before distributed soup, blankets, coals, and potatoes to two hundred poor families in the borough, even as he had done at that period of the year, for the preceding quarter of a century. No tale of distress, indeed, was ever told him in vain, unless palpably fictitious and fraudulent. The moment that his bare head, scantily covered with gray hairs, was visible, there arose, at a given signal from Mr. Barnabas Bloodsuck, a dreadful hissing, hooting, and groaning from all parts of the crowd. If he appeared disposed to persevere in addressing the two or three persons immediately around him, that only infuriated the mob against the poor old man, who bore it all, however, with great good-humor and fortitude. But it was in vain. After some twenty minutes spent in useless efforts to make himself audible, he concluded in mere dumb show, by proposing the Honorable Geoffrey Lovel Delamere, at the mention of whose name there again arose a perfect tempest of howling, hissing, groaning, and hooting. Then Mr. Milnthorpe came forward, determined not to be "put down." He was a very tall and powerfully built man; bold and determined, with a prodigious power of voice, and the heart of a lion. "Now, lads, I'm ready to try which can tire the other out first!" he shouted in a truly stentorian voice, heard over all their uproar, which it redoubled. How vain the attempt! How ridiculous the challenge! Confident of his lungs, he smiled good-humoredly at the hissing and bellowing mass before him, and for nearly half an hour persevered in his attempts to make himself heard. At length, however, without his having in the slightest degree succeeded, his pertinacity began to irritate the crowd who, in fact, felt themselves being bullied; and that no crowd, that ever I saw, or heard of, can bear for one instant; and what is one against so many? Hundreds of fists were held up and shaken at him. A missile of some sort or another was flung at him, though it missed him; and then the returning officer advised him to desist from his attempts, lest mischief should ensue; on which he shouted at the top of his voice, "I second Mr. Delamere!" and, amid immense groaning and hissing, replaced his hat on his head, thereby owning himself vanquished; which the mob also perceiving, they burst into loud and long-continued laughter.