Chippinge Borough

But White was unmoved. "We've got to get our voters there," he said. "Sir Robert will be displeased, I know, but-"

"Never was such a thing heard of!"

"No, sir, but never was such an election," White answered with spirit.

"Where is Sir Robert?"

"He'll be here presently," White replied. "He'll be here presently. Anyway, gentlemen," he continued, "we had better be going down to the hall. In a body, gentlemen, if you please, and voters in the middle. And keep together, if you please. A little shouting," he added cheerfully, "breaks no bones. We can shout too!"

The thing was unsatisfactory, and without precedent; nay, humiliating. But there seemed to be nothing else for it. As White said, this election was not as other elections; Bath was lost, and Bristol, too, it was whispered; the country was gone mad. And so, frowning and ill-content, the magnates trooped out, and led by White began to descend the stairs. There was much confusion, one asking if the Alderman was there, another demanding to see Sir Robert, here a man grumbling about White's arrangements, there a man silent over the discovery, made perhaps for the first time, that here was like to be an end of old Toryism and the loaves and the fishes it had dispensed.

In the hall where the party was reinforced by a crowd of their smaller supporters a man plucked White's sleeve and drew him aside. "She's out now!" he whispered. "Pybus has left two with him and they won't leave him for me. But if you went and ordered them out there's a chance they'd go, and-"

"The doctor's not there?"

"No, and Pillinger's well enough to come, if you put it strong. He's afraid of his wife and they've got him body and soul, but-"

White cast a despairing eye on the confusion about him. "How can I come?" he muttered. "I must get these to the poll first."

"Then you'll never do it!" the man retorted. "There'll be no coming and going, to-day, Mr. White, you take it from me. Now's the time while they're waiting for you in front. You can slip out at the back and bring him in and take him with you. It's the only way, so help me! They're in that temper we'll be lucky if we're all alive to-morrow!"

The man was right; and White knew it, yet he hesitated. If he had had an aide fit for the task, the thing might be done. But to go himself-he on whom everything fell! He reflected. Possibly Arthur Vaughan might not vote for the enemy after all. But if he did, Sir Robert would poll only five to six, and be beaten! Unless he polled Pillinger, when the returning officer's vote, of which he was sure, would give him the election. Pillinger's vote, therefore, was vital; everything turned upon it. And he determined to go. His absence would only cause a little delay, and he must risk that. He slipped away.

He was missed at once, and the discovery redoubled the confusion. One asked where he was, and another where Sir Robert was; while Cooke in tones louder and more irritable than was prudent found fresh fault, and wished to heaven that he had never seen the place. Long accustomed to one-sided contests of which both parties knew the issue, the Tory managers were helpless; they were aware that the hour had struck, and that they were expected, but without White they were uncertain how to act. Some cried that White had gone on, and that they should follow; some that Sir Robert was to meet them at the hustings, others that they might as well be home as waiting there! While the babel without deafened and distracted them. At last, without order given, they found themselves moving out.

Their reception did not clear their brains. Such a roar of execration as greeted them had never been heard in Chippinge: the hair on Dewell, the barber's, head stood up, the Alderman's checks grew pale, Cooke dropped his cane, the stoutest flinched. Changed indeed were the times from those a year or two past when their exit had been greeted by sycophantic cheers, or, at worst, by a little good-humoured jesting! Now the whole multitude in the open, not in one part, but in every part, knew as by instinct of their setting forth, brandished on the instant a thousand arms at them, deafened them with a thousand voices, demanded monotonously "The Bill! The Bill!" Nor had the demonstration stopped there, but for the intervention of a body of a hundred Whig stalwarts who, posting themselves on the flanks of the derided procession, conferred on its slow march an ignoble safety.

No wonder that many a one who found himself thus guarded rubbed his eyes. The times were changed indeed! No more despotism of Squire and Parson, no more monopoly of places, no more nominated members, no more elections that did but mock men who had no share in them, no more "Cripples," no more snug jobs! The Tories might agree with Mr. Fudge and foretell the ruinous outcome of it. But the thing was, the many-headed, the many-handed had them in its grip. They must go meekly, or not at all; with visions of French fish-fags and guillotines before their eyes, and wondering, most of them-as they tried to show a bold front, tried to wave their banners and give some answering shout to the sea that beat upon them-how they would get home again with whole skins!

That this passion for roaring had come in of late
Since the rabble all tried for a voice in the State,

Perhaps there was only one of them who never had that thought; though he, alone of them all, was unaware of the precautions taken for his safety. That was Sir Robert Vermuyden, the master of all, the patron, the Borough-monger! Attended by Bob Flixton, who had come with him from Bristol to see the fun-and whose voice it will be remembered Vaughan had overheard at Stapylton the evening before-and by two or three other guests, he had entered the White Lion from the rear; arriving in time to fall in-somewhat surprised at his supporters' precipitation-at the tail of the procession. The moment he was recognised by the crowd he was greeted with a roar of "Down with the Borough-monger!" that fairly appalled his companions. But he faced it calmly, imperturbably, quietly; a little paler, a little prouder, and a little sterner perhaps than usual, but with a gleam in his eyes that had not been seen in them for years. For answer to all he smiled with a curling lip: and it is probable that as much as any hour in his life he enjoyed this hour, which put him to the test before those over whom he had ruled so long. His caste might be passing, the days of his power might be numbered, the waves of democracy might be rising about the system in which he believed the safety of England to lie; but no man should see him falter. No veteran of the old noblesse in days which Sir Robert could remember had gone to his fate more proudly than the English patrician was prepared to go to his, ay, and though worse than the guillotine awaited him.

His contemptuous attitude, his fearless bearing, impressed the crowd, appreciative at bottom, of courage. And presently, where he turned his cold, smiling eyes they gaped instead of hissing: and one here and there under the magic of his look doffed hat or carried hand to forehead, and henceforth was mute. And so great is the sympathy of all parts of a mob that this silence spread quickly, mysteriously, at last, wholly. So that when he, last of his party, stepped on the hustings, there was for a moment a complete stillness; a stillness of expectation, while he looked round; such a stillness as startled the leaders of the opposition. It could not be-it could not be, that after all, the old lion would prove too much for them!

White-Hat Williams roared aloud in his rage. "Up hats and shout, lads," he yelled, "or by G-d the d-d Tories will do us after all! Are you afraid of them, you lubbers! Shout, lads, shout!"

XVIII

THE CHIPPINGE ELECTION (Continued)

The beast that was in the crowd answered to the spur. "Ye've robbed us long enough, ye old rascal!" a harsh Midland voice shrieked over the heads of the throng. "We'll have our rights now, you blood-sucker!" And "Boo! Boo!" the lower elements of the mob broke forth. And then in stern cadence, "The Bill! The Bill! The Bill!"

"Out of Egypt, and out of the House of Bondage!" shrieked a Methodist above the hub-bub.

"Ay, ay!"

"Slaves no longer!"

"No! No! No!"

"Hear that, ye hoary tyrant!" in a woman's shrill tones. "Who jailed my man for a hare?"

A roar of laughter which somewhat cleared the air followed this. Sir Robert smiled grimly.

The hustings, a mere wooden platform, raised four feet above the ground, rested against the Abbey gateway. It was closed at the rear and at each end; but in front it was guarded only by a stout railing. And so public was it, and so exposed its dangerous eminence, that the more timid of the unpopular party were no sooner upon it than they yearned for the safe obscurity of the common level. Of the three booths into which the interior was divided, the midmost was reserved for the returning officer and his staff.

Bob Flixton, who kept close to Sir Robert's elbow, looked down on the sea of jeering faces. "I tell you what it is," he said. "We're going to have a confounded row!"

Mowatt, at some distance from him, was of the same opinion, but regarded the outlook differently. "It's my belief," he muttered, "that we shall all be murdered."

And "D-n the Bill!" the old Squire ejaculated. "The people are off their heads! Jack as good as his master, and better too!"

These four, with the candidates, were in the front row. The Rector, the Alderman, and one or two of the neighbouring gentry shared the honour; and faced as well as they could the hooting and yelling, and the occasional missile. In the front of the other booth were White-Hat Williams and Blackford, the minister, Mr. Wrench, the candidate, wreathed in smiles, a pair of Whig Squires from the Bowood side, a curate of the same colour, Pybus-and Arthur Vaughan!

A thrill ran through Sir Robert's supporters when they saw his young kinsman on the other side; actually on the other side and arrayed against them. Their hearts, already low, sank a peg lower. Of evil omens this seemed the worst; sunk is the cause the young desert! And many were the curious eyes that searched the renegade's features and strove to read his thoughts.

But in vain. His head high, his face firmly composed, Vaughan looked stonily before him. Nor was it possible to say whether he was really unmoved, was stolidly indifferent, or merely masked agitation. Sir Robert on his side never looked at him, nor betrayed any sense of his presence. But he knew. He knew! And with the first bitter presage of defeat-for he was not a man to be intimidated by noise-he repeated his vow: "Not a pound, nor a penny! Never! Never!" This public renunciation, this wanton defiance-he would never forgive it! Henceforth, it must be war to the knife between them. No thousands, no compensation, no compromise! As the young man was sowing, so he should reap. He who, in its darkest hour not only insulted but abandoned his family, what punishment was too severe for him?

Vaughan could make a good guess at the proud autocrat's feelings: and he averted his eyes with care. The proceedings here opened, and he listened laughingly; until midway in the reading of some document which no one heeded-the crowd jeering and flouting merrily-he caught a new note in the turmoil. The next moment he was conscious of a swirling movement among those below him, there was a rush of the throng to his right, and he looked quickly to see what it meant.

A man-one of a group of three or four who appeared to be trying to push their way through the crowd-was being hustled and flung to and fro amid jeers and taunts. He was striving to gain the hustings, but was still some way from it; and his chance of reaching it with his clothes on his back seemed small. Vaughan saw so much; then the man lost his temper, and struck a blow. It was returned-and then, not till then, Vaughan saw that the man was Isaac White. He cried "Shame!" – and had passed one leg over the barriers to go to the rescue, when he saw that another was before him. Sir Robert's tall, spare figure was down among the crowd-which opened instinctively before his sharp command. His eyes, his masterful air still had power; the press opened instinctively before his sharp command. He had reached White, had extricated him, and turned to make good his retreat, when it seemed to strike the more brutal element in the crowd-mostly strangers to him-that here was the prime enemy of the cause, on foot amongst them, at their mercy! A rush was made at his back. He turned undaunted, White and two more at his side; the rabble recoiled. But when he wheeled again, a second rush was made, and they were upon him, and hustled him before he could turn. A man with a long stick struck off his hat, another-a lout with a cockade of amber and blue, the Whig colours-tried to trip him up. He stumbled, at the same moment a third man knocked White down.

"Yah! Down with him!" roared the crowd, "Down with the Borough-monger!"

But Vaughan, who had anticipated rather than seen the stumble, was over the rail, and cleaving the crowd, was at his side. He reached him a little in front of Bob Flixton, who had descended to the rescue from the other end of the booth. Vaughan hurled back the man who had tripped Sir Robert and who was still trying to throw him down; and the sight of the amber and blue which the new champion wore checked the assailants, and gave White time to rise.

Vaughan was furious. "Back, you cowards!" he cried fiercely. "Would you murder an old man? Shame on you! Shame!"

"Ay, you bullies!" cried Flixton, hitting one on the jaw very neatly-and completely disposing of that one for the day. "Back with you!"

As Vaughan spoke, half-a-dozen of his Tory supporters surrounded the baronet and bore him back out of danger. Though Sir Robert was undaunted, he was shaken; and breathing quickly, he let his hand rest for support on the nearest shoulder. It was Vaughan's, and the next instant he saw that it was; and he withdrew the hand as if he had let it rest on a hot iron.

"Mr. Flixton," he said-and the words reached a dozen ears at least, "your arm, if you please? I would rather be without this gentleman's assistance."

Vaughan's face flamed. But neither the words nor the action took him unawares. He stepped back with dignity, slightly touched his hat, and so returned to his side of the hustings.

But he was wounded and very angry. Alone of his party he had intervened-and this was his reward. When Pybus pushed his way to his side and stooped to his ear, talking quickly and earnestly, he did not repel him.

Episode as it was, the affray startled Sir Robert's friends: and White in particular took it very seriously. If violence of this sort was to rule, if even Sir Robert's person was not respected, he saw that he would not be able to bring his voters to the poll. They would run some risk of losing their lives, and one or two for certain would not dare to vote. The thing must be stopped, and at once. With this in view he made his way to the passage at the back of the hustings, which was common to all three booths, and heated and angry-his lip was cut by the blow he had received-he called for Pybus. But the press at the back of the hustings was great, and one of White-Hat Williams's foremen, who blocked the gangway, laughed in his face.

"I want to speak to Pybus," said White, glaring at the man, who on ordinary days would have touched his hat to him.

"Then want'll be your master," the other retorted, with a wink. And when White tried to push by him, the man gave him the shoulder.

"Let me pass," White foamed. No thought of Cobbett now, had the agent! These miserable upstarts, their insolence, their certainty of triumph fired his blood. "Let me pass!" he repeated.