CHAPTER LXXI.
It was the pleasure of Mr. Longueville, the young rival candidate, to issue from the castle of his noble relative, Lord Malhamshire, mounted on a milk-white steed, accompanied by two or three friends who sported coal-black ones. They were followed by his lordship, in a splendid carriage, drawn by six bays, in which sat that parliamentary orator who constituted not only a host in himself, but the one distinguished and experienced person, for the late member was still a very young man, placed for a short time in parliament solely by family interest, or rather by old associations, which are not easily eradicated even in parties adopting new doctrines.
Many other carriages followed, filled by Yorkshire gentlemen, forming a procession with which our friends could by no means compete, being lamentably defective in their equipages, personally considered, the candidate himself, having only the travelling chariot bought for immediate convenience on his arrival in town; therefore he accepted a seat in the lumbering but important-looking coach of his nominee, Sir Henry Scriven, who exhibited six noble greys and two outriders, all admirably matched after the fashion of the county, and his lady had soon the satisfaction of seeing that, with their own party, Mr. Granard and his friends, her husband had considerably the longer procession, and, though not so striking in the first instance, yet no way deficient in show and consequence.
"How I wish dear mamma could see them! I wonder what she would say?"
"She would say that, although we have not one young man equal to Mr. Longueville, perhaps, seeing Captain Hales is so altered, and looks so particularly shocking this morning, that, on the whole, our men cut down the other party all to nothing."
"I never saw Glentworth look so well since we were married, it is certain; but I can see a great change since then."
"Because you make yourself too anxious: he looks very well—so does Allerton; Meersbrook is a perfect rival in person to the candidate; Mr. Granard, a noble-looking man, very like papa; and the Count a perfect picture—a Titian stepped out of his frame. If mamma is right 'that person and manner carry the day with the mob,' I am certain we shall do."
"But they are all new to their work—all sadly too modest," said the candidate's wife, anxiously.
"So were you and I new, Isabella, and certainly modest as women ought to be, yet we have done our full share. Have no fear for the men, my dear."
But she was very full of fears, and remained so till green ribbons were loudly vociferated for below, and, looking out, she saw Tommy's father and a considerable body of his neighbours, for whom they were demanded; as also "seven for poor James White and his relations, whom they had carried in a great chair to the hustings." (The sick man to whom she had sent relief.)
This party despatched, others succeeded: it appeared very plain that great numbers had indeed not made up their minds till the day arrived, leaving themselves free to choose, or to bargain, to the last. This was decidedly the case with the religious part of the community, who did not sell, and made it matter of conscience how they should give their votes, therefore attended closely to every word spoken on either side, in order to support that party who appeared the most upright person. The mayor and the greater part of the corporation belonged to this class, and several had promised Glentworth purely because they considered his opponent too young a man for so serious an office as that of representing their reformed but still ancient borough.
Thousands now stood around that palladium of British liberty, the hustings, where, in the first place, Mr. Longueville was put in nomination and duly seconded by a noble friend. The same ceremony took place with Mr. Glentworth, who was seconded by Sir Henry Scriven; after which the mayor, who presided with great propriety and impartiality, called for the show of hands, and, the voters being very numerous, and all anxious to come within ken, an universal movement took place, a rocking of the billows, for a few moments actually alarming.
To one hand the greens far outnumbered the blues; but, on the whole, they did not appear to preponderate, as, in the distance, many friends of the opposite party appeared to press forward. Mr. Longueville's friends, therefore, demanded a poll, which, to the great satisfaction of Mr. Glentworth, was fixed for the following morning at ten o'clock. After this, both parties returned as they came, each cheered by the loud hurrahs of their respective adherents, the number of which it was impossible to guess, as the bells were now ringing with all the force of their iron tongues, and "silence was displaced" by every possible contrivance.
Still there were words addressed to Arthur, which might be distinguished: he was "the noble captain, willing to go down with his men with the port in view," "his honour, the clammed* [1]sailor"—they wanted him "to speyk, and tell 'em all abowt things;" and, this being agreed to by dumb show, the party readily followed to the respective committee-rooms of the respective candidates.
The two principal inns of Keenborough were in the market-place of the town, and joined each other at right angles. The King's Head was the best house, but the Malhamshire Arms was as well situated; and, in order to give the splendid orator who was the sole strength of the blues every advantage, a temporary platform had been erected in front, and, when young Longueville alighted from his proud steed, he presented himself here before the assembled multitude as if to receive the worship of the women. Those of his friends who had prepared his speech, and had seen him con it, and heard him recite it, urged him to address the crowd, who evidently expected it. But, alas! this effort was beyond his power—he stood "looking delightfully with all his might," but he could proceed no further.
His friend, a young collegian, pressed to his side, whispering, "I have the honour;" and the words, "I have the honour," passed his lips. "To appear before you," followed; but beyond "to appear" could not be heard, and one of the mob called out lustily—
"We see you appear, sir, an a varry pratty figger ye cut. No lass can cast her eyes on a hansomer lad than yo are."
Shouts of laughter followed, and the young candidate was completely hors de combat; he sought and found refuge in the encircling refuge of his vexed and pitying friends—his opponents felt for him, and were silent.
But now, at the turn formed by the market-place square, were seen preparations for the great man's address to the people, who had come, in many cases, for many miles; and whom friends and opponents were alike anxious to hear, and prepared to admire. The crowd below remained quiet and calm, as if suddenly transfixed to stone, and every outstretched head seemed to double its powers of hearing, when, stepping upon a temporary platform, the dignity of conscious power covering the defects of an awkward gait and a physical imperfection, the great man commenced, under the most favourable circumstances, the speech so ardently desired. The day was beautiful, the air balmy, the people predisposed to admire, and every topic on which the orator touched found its echo in the hearts of the great body of his hearers, for he talked of the majesty of the people, the true and only source of power—the freedom of Britons—the triumphs of their perseverance—and the necessity of exhibiting it on the present occasion. "Their young candidate," he said, "had every recommendation; he had imbibed pure freedom with his mother’s milk; he was their countryman (though hitherto not resident), and one that was
"by the lore
Of ancient Greece, to ancient freedom warmed."
In short, the young candidate was praised to the skies a statesman in embryo, and the Glentworth star evidently declined, when, with a passion for satire the speaker could not control, because wont to indulge, having established his own idol on its pedestal, he proceeded to demolish its rival by a process entirely uncalled for—the opposing candidate was stigmatized as a narrow-minded man, accustomed to look on his fellow-creatures as mere machines, from which he might extract pounds, shillings, and pence, when nailed to the desk of his counting-house. "It was true, he came before them prepared to act an amusing drama; but not, therefore, to take a benefit—he had got two lords as walking gentlemen, a clerk of his own to take notes, an Italian conjuror, and, better than all, a skeleton harlequin, well calculated to turn a summerset, frighten an old woman, and present an irresistible begging-box to the Treasury—but still, my friends, still, I say—"
Loud peals of laughter, from his own party, had drowned the voice of the orator some moments, but they were not re-echoed from the general crowd; on the contrary, a low, but increasing, murmur was heard, like the muttering of distant thunder, the stillness of the vast body suddenly ceased, and it soon became a number of small parties, talking earnestly and generally loudly with each other—the words, "It's not fair," were heard on every side. Arthur seized the moment of a comparative lull, and, stepping from the window where he was standing, with an agility only to be met with in his profession, upon the landing formed by a bay window beneath, he took up the word uttered so repeatedly; and his loud, clear voice, accustomed to brave the tempest, instantly arrested all, and produced immediate silence, as he said—
"You say well, my friends, it is not fair, and 'fair play's a jewel,' both by land and sea. I am neither lawyer nor orator, God knows; and my only pride is that of being a British sailor. The learned gentleman who addressed you is a deep thinker, whose talent I honour, and grieve that it is united to a temper so wayward, and a malignity so acute, that he could forget the generous and entire forbearance of his opponents, and bring each personally forward, in a supposed situation likely to render the most respectable portion of the borough (by which I mean the religious portion—those who, more especially, whether they go to church or meeting, fear God and honour the king) inimical to us. I trust they will not be so influenced; and, when I warn them not to condemn a man whose character is above suspicion, and whose talents must bear comparison with the proudest in this land of intelligence, I tell them and all, that if they lose the opportunity of securing such a mode of honouring the borough, they will repent it to the last moment of their lives."
Shouts of applause rang through the air, certainly not in consequence of the elegance of the harangue, but simple truth goes to the heart; to which we may add, that every word was heard by every creature—whatever had been the injuries of the orator, his lungs had sustained none; and, although he was succeeded for a short space by Glentworth, who spoke admirably the second time (as being more animated than at the first), yet it was not with equal effect. Indeed, he forgot that he was not addressing the senate, and his speech was much too good for the occasion—he who is crossing the moors on a winter's evening, "when fast falls the snow," should adopt a very different garment to that which he wears with impunity in a warm drawing-room.
We well remember hearing a very superior man, both as regarded elegance of mind and manners, and extensive learning and information, describe the mighty difference he experienced when he first rose to address the House of Commons, and when he had been called upon to speak to vast multitudes in the ancient city which he afterwards represented, and where he had been most happily successful in dispersing mobs of the most alarming description. "My emotions," said he, "were absolutely distressing. I felt the vast difference between addressing my equals and inferiors, in a wide, undiscerning multitude, and the concentred wisdom, learning, and integrity of a mighty country. I stood before six or seven hundred men chosen from among its millions, and to this hour I wonder how I spoke at all, for the whole mass of their constituents, not less than their own immense power, seemed to press on me palpably."
The poll was successful beyond the wishes of the party, and the new member when chaired was cheered, even to the content of Arthur and Isabella, who, as the youngest of the party, may be supposed to have desired it the most. It is well known to our readers, that the latter throughout the whole business looked beyond the hour with a sobriety of reflection, more suited to her union, than her years. The grand affair concluded, all were anxious to depart, being under peculiar circumstances, and, although Lord and Lady Allerton did fulfil their purpose of visiting his uncle, it was but for a single day.
If invitations could have detained them, they must all have remained many days, for never was Yorkshire hospitality more warmly pressed; but, on the following, when all bills were paid, all petitions attended to, and many an aching heart relieved, all set out as they were best able, save the Count, who returned for a day or two with Mr. Granard, intending to call on many old friends, and peep at many places endeared by recollection, and sacred to sorrow.
The brothers lengthened their journey by an excursion to Scarborough, where Arthur had friends, an indulgence Lord Meersbrook could not refuse, from perceiving how greatly he was already improved, and from being fully aware that, under the circumstances in which she was now placed, Helen, after the arrival of her sisters, would be more than ever engaged—to this it may be added that he had found the pleasure of receiving letters, written in the time borrowed from sleep, and often in affliction, but still "warm from the heart, and faithful to its fires."
- ↑ * Yorkshire for starved by hunger.