The Scene is that Forum for Fadmongers—the angle of the Park fronting Cumberland Gate. A large and utterly irreverent crowd is listening with cheerful intolerance to a Persevering Gentleman, of a highly respectable and almost scholarly appearance, who is addressing them from a three-legged stool on nothing in particular, though he has apparently committed himself by charging a certain Statesman with at least two political murders.
The Orator (haltingly). We who are fighting the battle—(uproarious laughter from Crowd, which he endures with dignified resignation)—I say—we who are fighting the battle!
The Crowd. 'Oo's talking about fightin' a battle?... You wouldn't be 'ere if there was any battles about! 'E's a fair ole fraud, 'e is—that's about 'is sort! Shet up, you idiotic ole ass, do! (&c., &c.)
The Orator (patiently). I say once more—we who are fighting the——(Howls of derision, at which he smiles, but perceives, regretfully, that the battle must be abandoned.) One of my friends here has seen fit to describe me as an idiotic old ass. ("So you are!") Well, I am glad, at least, that he pronounced it ass with the vowel short, and not ass, for it shows that he has at least a certain regard for the Queen's English (The Crowd hasten to give the vowel sound all the breadth in their power). I think I was—(here he consults a sheaf of notes)—offering some remarks upon Mr. William Wobler. Now we are told, "Speak evil of no man!"
The Crowd. That's a good un! 'Oo spoke evil of Mr. Bagwind jest now?
The Orator (mildly hurt). I never said a single unkind word about Mr. Bagwind!
The Crowd. Yer lie! Why, didn't you say as he murdered Jettison and Scapegoat? Wot yer call that, eh?
"I say—Never!"
The Orator. I may have made some such observation—but far be it from me to speak evil of any man. If I spoke evil, it was on public grounds. I should scorn to attack any individual in his private character. I think I have satisfactorily answered that matter. And I tell you this—it is largely owing to me that Mr. William Wobler owes his seat in Parliament to-day! (His hearers receive this with frank incredulity.) Ah, but it is, though, and I denounce him, as I have denounced him before, and shall denounce him while I have power to raise my voice, as a man who has proved himself utterly unworthy of the efforts I have made on his behalf. Some people are saying they want Thomas Tiddler in North Paddington. I say—Never! Not as long as I've breath in my body shall Thomas Tiddler be returned for any constituency! No, gentlemen: here I stand before you, with no money, and only one lung. I have rich and high relations, to whom I might apply for relief if I condescended to do so; but I scorn to abase myself in any such manner. I prefer to appeal to you, the people of London. It's a disgrace—a public disgrace—that you people should allow such a man as myself to walk the streets without food! (A voice. "Why don't yer work?") Work? Am I not working? Am I not in my proper place here to-night?