John Halifax, Gentleman

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  “I thought it would be so!—I doubt if there is a voter in all Kingswell who has not got a bribe.”

  “It is the same everywhere,” I said. “What can one man do against it, single-handed?”

  “Single-handed or not, every man ought to do what he can. And no man knows how much he can do till he tries.”

  So saying, he went into the large parlour of the Luxmore Arms, where the election was going on.

  A very simple thing, that election! Sir Ralph Oldtower, who was sheriff, sat at a table, with his son, the grave-looking young man who had been with him in the carriage; near them were Mr. Brithwood of the Mythe, and the Earl of Luxmore.

  The room was pretty well filled with farmers’ labourers and the like. We entered, making little noise; but John’s head was taller than most heads present; the sheriff saw him at once, and bowed courteously. So did young Mr. Herbert Oldtower, so did the Earl of Luxmore. Richard Brithwood alone took no notice, but turned his back and looked another way.

  It was now many years since I had seen the ’squire, Lady Caroline’s husband. He had fulfilled the promise of his youth, and grown into a bloated, coarse-featured, middle-aged man; such a man as one rarely meets with now-a-days; for even I, 329Phineas Fletcher, have lived to see so great a change in manners and morals, that intemperance, instead of being the usual characteristic of “a gentleman,” has become a rare failing—a universally-contemned disgrace.

  “Less noise there!” growled Mr. Brithwood. “Silence, you fellows at the door! Now, Sir Ralph, let’s get the business over, and be back for dinner.”

  Sir Ralph turned his stately grey head to the light, put on his gold spectacles, and began to read the writ of election. As he finished, the small audience set up a feeble cheer.

  The sheriff acknowledged it, then leaned over the table talking with rather frosty civility to Lord Luxmore. Their acquaintance seemed solely that of business. People whispered that Sir Ralph never forgot that the Oldtowers were Crusaders when the Ravenels were—nobody. Also the baronet, whose ancestors were all honourable men and stainless women, found it hard to overlook a certain royal bar-sinister, which had originated the Luxmore earldom, together with a few other blots which had tarnished that scutcheon since. So folk said; but probably Sir Ralph’s high principle was at least as strong as his pride, and that the real cause of his dislike was founded on the too well-known character of the Earl of Luxmore.

  They ceased talking; the sheriff rose, and briefly stated that Richard Brithwood, Esquire, of the Mythe, would nominate a candidate.

  The candidate was Gerard Vermilye, Esquire; at the mention of whose name one Norton Bury man broke into a horse-laugh, which was quenched by his immediate ejection from the meeting.

  Then, Mr. Thomas Brown, steward of the Earl of Luxmore, seconded the nomination.

  After a few words between the sheriff, his son, and Lord Luxmore, the result of which seemed rather unsatisfactory than otherwise, Sir Ralph Oldtower again rose.

  “Gentlemen and electors, there being no other candidate 330proposed, nothing is left me but to declare Gerard Vermilye, Esquire—”

  John Halifax made his way to the table. “Sir Ralph, pardon my interruption, but may I speak a few words?”

  Mr. Brithwood started up with an angry oath.

  “My good sir,” said the baronet, with a look of reprehension which proved him of the minority who thought swearing ungentlemanly.

  “By —, Sir Ralph, you shall not hear that low fellow!”

  “Excuse me, I must, if he has a right to be heard. Mr. Halifax, you are a freeman of Kingswell?”

  “I am.”

  This fact surprised none more than myself.

  Brithwood furiously exclaimed that it was a falsehood. “The fellow does not belong to this neighbourhood at all. He was picked up in Norton Bury streets—a beggar, a thief, for all I know.”

  “You do know very well, Mr. Brithwood. Sir Ralph, I was never either a beggar or a thief. I began life as a working lad—a farm-labourer—until Mr. Fletcher, the tanner, took me into his employ.”

  “So I have always understood,” said Sir Ralph, courteously. “And next to the man who is fortunate enough to boast a noble origin, I respect the man who is not ashamed of an ignoble one.”

  “That is not exactly my position either,” said John, with a half smile. “But we are passing from the question in hand, which is simply my claim to be a freeman of this borough.”

  “On what grounds?”

  “You will find in the charter a clause, seldom put in force, that the daughter of a freeman can confer the freedom on her husband. My wife’s late father, Mr. Henry March, was a burgess of Kingswell. I claimed my rights, and registered, this year. Ask your clerk, Sir Ralph, if I have not spoken correctly.”

  331The old white-headed clerk allowed the fact.

  Lord Luxmore looked considerably surprised, and politely incredulous still. His son-in-law broke out into loud abuse of this “knavery.”

  “I will pass over this ugly word, Mr. Brithwood, merely stating that—”

  “We are quite satisfied,” interrupted Lord Luxmore, blandly. “My dear sir, may I request so useful a vote and so powerful an interest as yours, for our friend, Mr. Vermilye?”

  “My lord, I should be very sorry for you to misapprehend me for a moment. It is not my intention, except at the last extremity, to vote at all. If I do, it will certainly not be for Mr. Brithwood’s nominee. Sir Ralph, I doubt if, under some circumstances, which by your permission I am about to state, Mr. Gerard Vermilye can keep his seat, even if elected.”

  A murmur arose from the crowd of mechanics and labourers, who, awed by such propinquity to gentry and even nobility, had hitherto hung sheepishly back; but now, like all English crowds, were quite ready to “follow the leader,” especially one they knew.

  “Hear him! hear the master!” was distinguishable on all sides. Mr. Brithwood looked too enraged for words; but Lord Luxmore, taking snuff with a sarcastic smile, said:

  “Honores mutant mores!—I thought, Mr. Halifax, you eschewed politics?”

  “Mere politics I do, but not honesty, justice, morality; and a few facts have reached my knowledge, though possibly not Lord Luxmore’s, which make me feel that Mr. Vermilye’s election would be an insult to all three; therefore, I oppose it.”

  A louder murmur rose.

  “Silence, you scoundrels!” shouted Mr. Brithwood; adding his usual formula of speech, which a second time extorted the old baronet’s grave rebuke.

  “It seems, Sir Ralph, that democracy is rife in your neighbourhood. 332True, my acquaintance has not lain much among the commonalty, but still I was not aware that the people choose the Member of Parliament.”

  “They do not, Lord Luxmore,” returned the sheriff, somewhat haughtily. “But we always hear the people. Mr. Halifax, be brief. What have you to allege against Mr. Brithwood’s nominee?”

  “First, his qualification. He has not three hundred, nor one hundred a-year. He is deeply in debt, at Norton Bury and elsewhere. Warrants are out against him; and only as an M.P. can he be safe from outlawry. Add to this, an offence common as daylight, yet which the law dare not wink at when made patent—that he has bribed, with great or small sums, every one of the fifteen electors of Kingswell; and I think I have said enough to convince any honest Englishman that Mr. Gerard Vermilye is not fit to represent them in Parliament.”

  Here a loud cheer broke from the crowd at the door and under the open windows, where, thick as bees, the villagers had now collected. They, the un-voting, and consequently unbribable portion of the community, began to hiss indignantly at the fifteen unlucky voters. For though bribery was, as John had truly said, “as common as daylight,” still, if brought openly before the public, the said virtuous public generally condemned it, if they themselves had not been concerned therein.

  The sheriff listened uneasily to a sound, very uncommon at elections, of the populace expressing an opinion contrary to that of the lord o
f the soil.

  “Really, Mr. Brithwood, you must have been as ignorant as I was of the character of your nominee, or you would have chosen some one else. Herbert”—he turned to his son, who, until the late dissolution, had sat for some years as member for Norton Bury—“Herbert, are you acquainted with any of these facts?”

  Mr. Herbert Oldtower looked uncomfortable.

  “Answer,” said his father. “No hesitation in a matter of 333right and wrong. Gentlemen, and my worthy friends, will you hear Mr. Oldtower, whom you all know? Herbert, are these accusations true?”

  “I am afraid so,” said the grave young man, more gravely.

  “Mr. Brithwood, I regret extremely that this discovery was not made before. What do you purpose doing?”

  “By the Lord that made me, nothing! The borough is Lord Luxmore’s; I could nominate Satan himself if I chose. My man shall stand.”

  “I think,” Lord Luxmore said, with meaning, “it would be better for all parties that Mr. Vermilye should stand.”

  “My lord,” said the baronet; and one could see that not only rigid justice, but a certain obstinacy, marked his character, especially when anything jarred against his personal dignity or prejudices; “you forget that, however desirous I am to satisfy the family to whom this borough belongs, it is impossible for me to see with satisfaction—even though I cannot prevent—the election of any person so unfit to serve His Majesty. If, indeed, there were another candidate, so that the popular feeling might decide this very difficult matter—”

  “Sir Ralph,” said John Halifax, determinedly, “this brings me to the purpose for which I spoke. Being a landholder, and likewise a freeman of this borough, I claim the right of nominating a second candidate.”

  Intense, overwhelming astonishment struck all present. Such a right had been so long unclaimed, that everybody had forgotten it was a right at all. Sir Ralph and his clerk laid their venerable heads together for some minutes, before they could come to any conclusion on the subject. At last the sheriff rose.

  “I am bound to say, that, though very uncommon, this proceeding is not illegal.”

  “Not illegal?” almost screamed Richard Brithwood.

  “Not illegal. I therefore wait to hear Mr. Halifax’s nomination. Sir, your candidate is, I hope, no democrat?”

  334“His political opinions differ from mine, but he is the only gentleman whom I in this emergency can name; and is one whom myself, and I believe all my neighbours, will be heartily glad to see once more in Parliament. I beg to nominate Mr. Herbert Oldtower.”

  A decided sensation at the upper half of the room. At the lower half an unanimous, involuntary cheer; for among our county families there were few so warmly respected as the Oldtowers.

  Sir Ralph rose, much perplexed. “I trust that no one present will suppose I was aware of Mr. Halifax’s intention. Nor, I understand, was Mr. Oldtower. My son must speak for himself.”

  Mr. Oldtower, with his accustomed gravity, accompanied by a not unbecoming modesty, said, that in this conjuncture, and being personally unacquainted with both Mr. Brithwood and the Earl of Luxmore, he felt no hesitation in accepting the honour offered to him.

  “That being the case,” said his father, though evidently annoyed, “I have only to fulfil my duty as public officer to the Crown.”

  Amidst some confusion, a show of hands was called for; and then a cry rose of “Go to the poll!”

  “Go to the poll!” shouted Mr. Brithwood. “This is a family borough. There has not been a poll here these fifty years. Sir Ralph, your son’s mad.”

  “Sir, insanity is not in the family of the Oldtowers. My position here is simply as sheriff of the county. If a poll be called for—”

  “Excuse me, Sir Ralph, it would be hardly worth while. May I offer you—”

  It was—only his snuff-box. But the Earl’s polite and meaning smile filled up the remainder of the sentence.

  Sir Ralph Oldtower drew himself up haughtily, and the fire of youth flashed indignantly from his grand old eyes.

  335“Lord Luxmore seems not to understand the duties and principles of us country gentlemen,” he said coldly, and turned away, addressing the general meeting. “Gentlemen, the poll will be held this afternoon, according to the suggestion of my neighbour here.”

  “Sir Ralph Oldtower has convenient neighbours,” remarked Lord Luxmore.

  “Of my neighbour, Mr. Halifax,” repeated the old baronet, louder, and more emphatically. “A gentleman,”—he paused, as if doubtful whether in that title he were awarding a right or bestowing a courtesy, looked at John, and decided—“a gentleman for whom, ever since I have known him, I have entertained the highest respect.”

  It was the first public recognition of the position which for some time had been tacitly given to John Halifax in his own neighbourhood. Coming thus, from this upright and honourable old man, whose least merit it was to hold, and worthily, a baronetage centuries old, it made John’s cheek glow with an honest gratification and a pardonable pride.

  “Tell her,” he said to me, when, the meeting having dispersed, he asked me to ride home and explain the reason of his detention at Kingswell—“Tell my wife all. She will be pleased, you know.”

  Ay, she was. Her face glowed and brightened as only a wife’s can—a wife whose dearest pride is in her husband’s honour.

  Nevertheless, she hurried me back again as quickly as I came.

  As I once more rode up Kingswell Hill, it seemed as if the whole parish were agog to see the novel sight. A contested election! truly, such a thing had not been known within the memory of the oldest inhabitant. The fifteen voters—I believe that was the number—were altogether bewildered by a sense of their own importance. Also, by a new and startling fact—which I found Mr. Halifax trying to impress upon a few of them, gathered 336under the great yew-tree in the churchyard—that a man’s vote ought to be the expression of his own conscientious opinion; and that for him to sell it was scarcely less vile than to traffic in the liberty of his son or the honour of his daughter. Among those who listened most earnestly, was a man whom I had seen before to-day—Jacob Baines, once the ringleader of the bread-riots, who had long worked steadily in the tan-yard, and then at the flour-mill. He was the honestest and faithfulest of all John’s people—illustrating unconsciously that Divine doctrine, that often they love most to whom most has been forgiven.

  The poll was to be held in the church—a not uncommon usage in country boroughs, but which from its rarity struck great awe into the Kingswell folk. The churchwarden was placed in the clerk’s desk to receive votes. Not far off, the sheriff sat in his family-pew, bare-headed; by his grave and reverent manner imposing due decorum, which was carefully observed by all except Lord Luxmore and Mr. Brithwood.

  These two, apparently sure of their cause, had recovered their spirits, and talked and laughed loudly on the other side of the church. It was a very small building, narrow and cruciform; every word said in it was distinctly audible throughout.

  “My lord, gentlemen, and my friends all,” said Sir Ralph, rising gravely, “let me hope that every one will respect the sanctity of this place.”

  Lord Luxmore, who had been going about with his dazzling diamond snuff-box and equally dazzling smile, stopped in the middle of the aisle, bowed, replied, “With pleasure—certainly!” and walked inside the communion rail, as if believing that his presence there conveyed the highest compliment he could pay the spot.

  The poll began in perfect silence. One after the other, three farmers went up and voted for Mr. Vermilye. There was snuff under their noses—probably something heavier than snuff in their pockets.

  337Then came up the big, grey-headed fellow I have before mentioned—Jacob Baines. He pulled his fore-lock to Sir Ralph, rather shyly; possibly in his youth he had made the sheriff’s acquaintance under less favourable circumstances. But he plucked up courage.

  “Your honour, might a man say a word to ’ee?”

  “Certainly! but be quick, my good
fellow,” replied the baronet, who was noted for his kindly manner to humble folk.

  “Sir, I be a poor man. I lives in one o’ my lord’s houses. I hanna paid no rent for a year. Mr. Brown zays to me, he zays—‘Jacob, vote for Vermilye, and I’ll forgive ’ee the rent, and here be two pound ten to start again wi’. So, as I zays to Matthew Hales (he be Mr. Halifax’s tenant, your honour, and my lord’s steward ha’ paid ’un nigh four pound for his vote), I sure us be poor men, and his lordship a lord and all that—it’s no harm, I reckon.”

  “Holloa! cut it short, you rascal; you’re stopping the poll. Vote, I say.”

  “Ay, ay, ’squire;” and the old fellow, who had some humour in him, pulled his hair again civilly to Mr. Brithwood. “Wait till I ha’ got shut o’ these.”

  And he counted out of his ragged pockets a handful of guineas. Poor fellow! how bright they looked; those guineas, that were food, clothing, life.

  “Three was paid to I, two to Will Horrocks, and the rest to Matthew Hales. But, sir, we has changed our minds; and please, would ’ee give back the money to them as owns it?”

  “Still, my honest friend—”

  “Thank ’ee, Sir Ralph, that’s it: we be honest; we couldn’t look the master in the face else. Twelve year ago, come Michaelmas, he kept some on us from starving—may be worse. We bean’t going to turn rascals on’s hands now. Now I’ll vote, sir,—and it won’t be for Vermilye.”

  A smothered murmur of applause greeted old Jacob, as 338he marched back down the aisle, where on the stone benches of the porch was seated a rural jury, who discussed not over-favourably the merits of Lord Luxmore’s candidate.

  “He owes a power o’ money in Norton Bury—he do.”

  “Why doesn’t he show his face at the ’lection, like a decent gen’leman?”

  “Fear’d o’ bailiffs!” suggested the one constable, old and rheumatic, who guarded the peace of Kingswell. “He’s the biggest swindler in all England.”

  “Curse him!” muttered an old woman. “She was a bonny lass—my Sally! Curse him!”

  All this while, Lord Luxmore sat in lazy dignity in the communion-chair, apparently satisfied that as things always had been so they would continue to be; that despite the unheard-of absurdity of a contested election, his pocket-borough was quite secure. It must have been, to say the least, a great surprise to his lordship, when, the poll being closed, its result was found thus: Out of the fifteen votes, six were for Mr. Vermilye, nine for his opponent. Mr. Herbert Oldtower was therefore duly elected as member for the borough of Kingswell.