by R S Surtees
Mr. Jorrocks rang the bell.
“Tell that (hiccup) Pigg to carry this (hiccup) shockin’ drucken chap to (hiccup) bed,” hiccuped Mr. Jorrocks; “and let him ‘ave a (hiccup) glass o’ (hiccup) sober-water, and a (hiccup) red ‘erring in the mornin’.”
“Yes, sir,” said Benjamin, eyeing Jobson’s contortions on the carpet.
“And ‘ave (hiccup) Cobden ready for (hiccup) me at half-past (hiccup) six,” added Mr. Jorrocks, lurching off to bed.
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE FANNERS ARE with us to a man.” — LEAGUE LIE, NO. 91.
THE bitter, angry personalities of the canvass were at length stopped by the arrival of the writ.
The Duke of Donkeyton, after resorting to every expedient to get rid of our pertinacious friend, had at length been compelled to let Jeems undergo the degradation of a canvass, and the latter had endeavoured to counteract the success of Mr. Jorrocks’s early start by the splendour of his retinue, the bounty of his expenditure, and the lavishness of his promises.
Money flew in all directions. He would buy a parrot of an old woman for twenty pounds whose husband was difficult to come over, or outbid Mr. Jorrocks’s promised subscription to races or hounds by offering to give a gold cup, or to hunt the country himself. He would do anything! —
The country was in a complete ferment. The farmers and landowners pulled well together, but the Duke’s large interest, backed by the Radicals and part of the manufacturing interest, made it fearful odds against our commercial Squire.
Mr. Smoothington fortunately made light of the matter, and in his daily reports to the Castle, of the success of the canvass, he repeatedly assured the Duke there was not the shadow of a doubt of the Marquis’s success. As the canvass advanced he grew more confident; said that he considered the election as good as over — that old Jorrocks would never show at the hustings; and when that assertion was contradicted by one of our friend’s facetious addresses, thanking the freeholders for their promises of support, and pledging himself to go to a poll, Mr. Smoothington accompanied the document by a return from the Marquis’s canvass book, showing a clear majority of three hundred.
Our friend, on the other hand, had bet as many as seventy hats that he would win. The accuracy of their respective opinions was now about to be put to the test.
On the nomination day the whole country was in commotion. It rose to a man. It was a time of year when farmers have a little leisure after harvesting, and the fineness of the later autumn tempted the denizens of the manufacturing towns to indulge in a holiday on so exciting an occasion. A sharpish frost in the night loosened the fading leaves, leaving them ready to fall at the least breath of wind. Down they dropped, one after another, twirling round and round as they fell leisurely to the ground.
At an early hour in the morning of the nomination day, the tide of population began to flow into Sellborough. Not a chaise, not a gig, not a car, not a van, not a horse in the country but what was put in requisition. Farmers’ nags stood three in a stall. The nomination was fixed for twelve o’clock, and before that hour the respective candidates had entered the town from different sides, escorted by their friends, and preceded by bands and banners. The Marquis’s set-out was most splendid. All the flags from the district committees at the different towns and villages were gathered together, forming a perfect forest of silk and gold, which were stationed before and after the barouche and six in which his lordship rode. His colours were pea-green and yellow, the rosettes and favours being composed of gold tinsel instead of yellow silk.
He was accompanied by Mr. Smoothington and his proposer and seconder, Captain Bluster and Mr. Prosey Slooman. The latter had made an unsuccessful attempt to grow whiskers under his chin. Captain Bluster’s bristled most importantly red. He had been a protectionist, but the judicious representation by Mr. Jobson of what the Duke had said about his being a “a good fellow and a gentleman,” had driven him the other way. Bluster was now a red-hot Leaguer — far hotter than his Grace; who, indeed, was anything but a Leaguer at heart. Mr. Jobson headed the tenantry on horseback; who, with slouched hats and downcast looks, followed the carriage, looking uncommonly sulky. Mrs. Jobson, in a flaming clarence drawn by a pair of the Duke’s blood bays, dressed in a beautifully made pea-green pelisse, with a yellow velvet bonnet and a green feather, and a twenty guineas point-lace veil, chaperoned a bevy of country belles; while the Duchess’s pretty little French maid escorted a troop of the household dolly-mops in the break.
Altogether it was a splendid procession. The Marquis’s colours waved from the balconies, windows, and shops, and appeared on the breasts or the bonnets of the fair occupants; while beards or whiskers on the chin denoted that the few men who appeared without cockades were for the young duke, as they called the Marquis.
Twenty-three young ladies were regularly annihilated by the captivating smiles and bows of the Marquis as he passed slowly through the streets, each fair recipient thinking the smile she got was the sweetest. That old Jorrocks had no chance, was the firm conviction of every one who saw the splendid cavalcade pass along.
Mr. Smoothington smirked, and chuckled, and rubbed his hands over and over, at the thoughts of the drubbing they would give him.
“The county will be ours for ever and a day,” exclaimed he to the Marquis, as they passed under the old archway leading into the market-place.
As they entered the spacious arena, tremendous applause rent the air from the front of the spacious hustings on the far side, before which a whole army of drab-coated horsemen were assembled, with some half-dozen bunting and glazed calico flags in the centre.
It was Mr. Jorrocks, alighting from his fire-engine, in which he had driven from the house of his proposer, Mr. Hamilton Dobbin, who had been wicked enough to break away from the Duke’s ranks, in spite of the dinner he had eaten.
“Now, another shout for t’ard Squire!” exclaimed Pigg, waving the only silk flag they sported, and who acted as fugleman to the party. “Now another!” repeated he, as Mr. Jorrocks advanced to the candidate’s place in front of the hustings. —
“Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah!” shouted the drab coats.
Mr. Smoothington’s countenance fell as he surveyed the dense mass.
“Now three for Squire Dobbin!” exclaimed Pigg, as Mr. Jorrocks’s head left off acknowledging the compliment they had paid him.
Three cheers were then given for Mr. Jorrocks’s proposer.
“Now three for ard’Tail!” roared Pigg, flourishing his flag with “JORROCKS, THE FARMER’S FRIEND!” upon it. Three hearty cheers followed for Mr. Heavytail, who had been chosen by the farmers to second the nomination.
The farmers then bustled away to put up their horses, and get back to secure places in front of the hustings. Mr. Jorrocks availed himself of the opportunity to pull his wig straight, and adjust a large bunch of wheat-ears he had stuck in the Jorrockian jacket button-hole (as emblematical of his creed), and which had got rather deranged in his passage through the crowd from the fire-engine on to the hustings.
He then conned over his speech.
The Marquis having arrived at the “Duke’s Head,” where his central committee sat (at least sat towards dinner-time, when they liberally dispensed champagne and everything expensive); the Marquis, we say, having arrived at the “Duke’s Head,” alighted, to add the committee as a tail to the head he had brought with him, and having called for a glass of hock and soda-water, his example was followed by those who durst trust their stomachs with such flatulent compounds. Bluster had a glass of brandy.
The party being formed, the Marquis set off for the hustings, walking between his proposer and seconder amid deafening shouts of applause from the dense crowd through which they passed.
Mr. Jorrocks rose to receive his quondam farmer friend, as the Marquis made his appearance at the back of the hustings; his lordship’s dandified garb contrasting strangely with our friend’s uncouth attire.
“Well, old boy!” said the Marquis gaily,
extending his hand to Mr. Jorrocks, “so you won’t be satisfied without a beating!”
“I’m not sich a glutton as all that,” replied our friend. “Suppose I give you one instead.”
“Will you, indeed!” exclaimed the Marquis.
“I’ll bet you a ‘at I do,” replied Mr. Jorrocks, looking very confident.
The High Sheriff’s appearance at the back of the hustings put an end to the dialogue, and that functionary, advancing to the front, divided the belligerents.
Silence was then called for, and at length obtained from the sea of heads in front and the crowd upon the hustings. It was broken occasionally by an observation from Pigg, who, having availed himself of the opportunity afforded by the farmers putting up their horses, to get a few glasses of rum, had now returned with his flag, loquaciously drunk. Johnny Wopstraw, Willey Goodheart, and a few more of Mr. Jorrocks’s tenants, clustered round the gaunt fugleman, whose tobacco-streaming mouth was conspicuous above the crowd.
The High Sheriff came forward, and, after observing that he had called them together in obedience to Her Majesty’s writ, in order that they might choose a fit and proper representative to supply the vacancy caused by the lamented death of Mr. Guzzlegoose, begged that they would give to every gentleman, however they might differ from him in political opinion, a fair, impartial, and uninterrupted hearing; and concluded by calling upon any gentleman who had a candidate to propose to come forward and do so.
Captain Bluster then presented himself to the notice of the meeting. After looking angrily towards James Pigg, who saluted him with a cry of “Now, Ginger toppin!” as he took off his hat, the Captain commenced by saying, that unless he had seen it with his own eyes, he could not have believed that an almost total stranger to the county could have had the vanity to conceive himself the fittest champion of its battles, and he certainly did not think Mr. Jorrocks was likely to add much to his character by his appearance in opposition to the popular son of the most popular parents under the sun — (loud cheers from the whiskerites, and roars of laughter from the drab coats).
For his part, he thought Mr. Jorrocks was the last man who ought to have thought of filling such a position — he who had received the lavished honours and favour of the parent ought never to appear in opposition to the son (renewed cheers, mingled with hisses). He who had feasted’ at Donkeyton Castle — eating the Duke’s venison and drinking his wine, might surely make some better return than attempting to defraud the Duke’s son of his birthright. — (Renewed applause, with increasing disapprobation.)
The Captain then referred to a card which he carried in the palm of his hand for “the word,” and again went on.
He had the honour of proposing a candidate to fill the vacancy in the representation occasioned by the lamented death of Mr. Guzzlegoose, and he would not pay the valued friend he was about to put in nomination so poor a compliment as to say, that he challenged comparison with the competitor opposed to him — (Captain Bluster looking at Mr. Jorrocks as if that gentleman would make him sick); but he would fearlessly assert that, look where they would, north, south, east, or west, — they could not lay their hands on a gentleman more pre-eminently qualified than his much-beloved and highly-exalted friend (cheers and great uproar, mingled with cries of ‘Where’s Big-loaf Bowker?’ from the drab coats). That friend was the nobleman now standing on his right — one whose every interest was identified with theirs — whose vast possessions must suffer if their interests were injured, and who had, therefore, every reason for advocating such measures as would best promote their common prosperity.”
“Weal done, ard Ginger toppin!” ‘ exclaimed Pigg, flourishing his flag amid roars of laughter. —
“I see,” said Captain Bluster, eyeing the inscription on it, “Jorrocks, the farmer’s friend, painted on that flag,” pointing towards where Pigg stood, with his tobacco-stained mouth gaping wide open to catch every word the Captain said. ‘“I see,” repeated he, “Jorrocks, the farmer’s friend, painted on that flag.”
“It’s not painted — it’s geelt!” exclaimed Pigg, giving it another flourish, amid great shouting.
“I see,” said Captain Bluster, for the third time, “Jorrocks, the farmer’s friend, in gilt letters on that flag.”
“Ay, that’s it!” roared Pigg, jealous of the honour of his banner.
“But will any man tell me,” continued Captain Bluster, “that my noble friend is not as much the farmer’s friend as this self-elected champion, John Jorrocks? Who, let me ask, is Mr. Jorrocks, that he should all at once set up as the champion of the farmers’ interests? What has he done to forward agriculture? Has he, like my noble friend, the Duke of Donkeyton, a model farm, on which every new machine is exhibited, every new experiment tried? where every species of manure — Hunt’s bone dust — Hunt’s half inch — soap ashes — rape cake — rags — new Bristol manure — Chie fou — guano — nitrate of soda” —
“Hoot ye and your nitrate o’ sober!” roared Pigg; “MUCK’S YOUR MAN!” an exclamation that caused such an outburst of laughter as completely to put the Captain out.
The Under Sheriff pointing Pigg out, desired the man with the dirty mouth, and “Jorrocks for ever” round his hat, to hold his tongue, or he would order him into custody.
Captain Bluster, after a long pause, again resumed —
Not only was his dear and noble friend, the Duke of Donkeyton, an active promoter of agricultural improvement, but the noble lord beside him — a worthy son of a worthy sire — trod in the footsteps of his Grace. The Marquis of Bray was well known to scientific farmers as the inventor of a valuable — an unequalled draining-tile.
“Never sich a thing!” exclaimed Mr. Jorrocks; “I inwented it!”
The Sheriff called Mr. Jorrocks to order.
Captain Bluster repeated what he said: he had it on the authority of a gentleman behind him (Joshua Sneakington), that the Marquis of Bray had invented a most valuable — a most durable draining-tile; and yet, not content with attempting to defraud the noble Marquis of what he (Captain Bluster) designated his birthright — the representation of the county, this farmer’s champion, because the noble lord had proclaimed the discovery at his (Mr. Jorrocks’s) house, now wanted to filch the Marquis of his draining-tile too. (Great uproar, mingled with hisses, and cries of “Oh, you horrid old cheat! Oh, you shocking bad man!” and other symptoms of disapprobation from the whiskerites.)
“THAT’S A LEE!” roared Pigg, who immediately ducked under.
He (Captain Bluster) felt satisfied the county would visit such conduct with the punishment it deserved, and with that firm conviction he felt equal pride and pleasure in proposing to the electors, as a fit and proper knight to represent their interests in Parliament, James Prederich Charles Fox Plantagenet Bussell Bolinbroke Bray, commonly called the Marquis of Bray, of Donkeyton Castle.
Mr. Prosey Slooman came forward to second the nomination, with an uncommonly lengthy, well-rounded speech in his pocket; but unfortunately, when it came to the point, he had studied it so much that he could not let it off; so after gaping a few seconds at the crowd, he simply seconded the nomination, leaving much good abuse of Mr. Jorrocks unsaid.
It was now the turn of the gentlemen at the other end of the hustings, and, accordingly, Mr. Hamilton Dobbir presented himself to the meeting, and was received with cheers from the drab coats, and hisses from the whisker-on-chin-ites.
He commenced by saying that he should occupy a very brief portion of their time in proposing the gentleman who had been unanimously adopted by the party he belonged to to fight the battle of their interests; because, while he felt his own incompetence to go fully into the question that now agitated their attention, he had every belief that the candidate he had to propose was quite able to do so; he therefore felt great satisfaction in leaving the arguments in the hands of his esteemed friend Mr. Jorrocks, whom he begged to recommend as a fit and proper knight to represent their interests in Parliament.
The nomina
tion was received with great applause from the farmers, and hisses from the whiskerites.
Mr. Heavytail then raised his voice to its utmost pitch, and spoke in such a tone as to be clearly audible to several ladies and gentlemen on the church tower across the market-place.
“GENTLEMEN,” said he, “IF YOU WANT TO CUT YOUR OWN
THROATS, YOU’LL VOTE FOR BRAY; IF YOU WANT TO LIVE AND
LET LIVE, YOU’LL VOTE FOR OUR SQUIRE (great applause from the drab coats). I SECOND OUR SQUIRE!”
The High Sheriff then inquired if any other gentleman had a candidate to propose, and being answered by a volley of negatives, he called on the Marquis of Bray to address the meeting.
In compliance with the High-Sheriff’s requisition, his Lordship then uncovered his well-waxed ringlets, and throwing back his silk-lined blue dress-coat, bowed, and placed his primrose-coloured kid-gloved right hand upon his heart, in return for the deafening huzzas and waving of handkerchiefs, ribbons, and hats, that greeted his appearance.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” said he, when the applause had somewhat subsided; “ladies and gentlemen,” repeated he, looking sweet at Mrs. Jobson and party, who were drawn up a little on the left, “permit me, in the first place, to return my most heartfelt and cordial thanks for the kind, the flattering reception you honoured me with on my arrival this day; a reception so cheering, so enthusiastic and exhilarating, that we cannot but admire the indomitable courage of my farmer friend on the left — the god of corn, as his followers call him” — the Marquis looking at our rosy-gilled friend, with his bunch of wheat-ears under his nose; “we cannot, I say, but admire his indomitable courage in coming here to receive the hearty drubbing his temerity is certain to ensure him.”
“Are you a goin’ to bet me that ‘at we talked about?” inquired Mr. Jorrocks.
“For,” continued the Marquis, without noticing the interruption, “when I look at the splendid array of beauty — an array that I firmly believe no town of this size ever before contained; when I reflect that those bright eyes and sweet looks respond to sympathising hearts arrayed in the cause of the poor man’s home, whose interest I stand here to advocate, I say it is morally impossible to doubt, for one moment, what will be the issue of this great and virtuous contest; a contest in which the legitimate laws of nature are ranged against unnatural monopoly and close-fisted selfishness!” (Great applause, and renewed fluttering of handkerchiefs, flags, and ribbons.) “But, ladies and gentlemen,” continued his lordship, “let me not be led away by those enchanting smiles, and those applauding cheers, from the important duty that has brought us together this day; and first, let me return my most cordial thanks to my proposer and seconder, for the kind and flattering terms in which they introduced me to your notice; terms that I cannot but feel are infinitely superior to any humble merits of mine, but which will stimulate me to such acts as will render me worthy of your approbation.” (Renewed applause, and waving of handkerchiefs.)