Ten Thousand a-Year. Volume 3

"O cursed Quaint Club!"—said he to himself—"O cursed Crafty! I am beaten—beaten hollow—ridiculously! How the miscreants have bubbled me! Crafty can now do without them, and won't endanger the election by polling them! We are ruined! And what will be said at headquarters, after what I have led them to believe—bah!" He almost stamped with the vehemence of his emotions. "There's certainly yet a resource; nay, but that also is too late—a riot—a nod, a breath of mine—those fine fellows there—would down with hustings, and all the poll-books be destroyed!—No, no; it is not to be thought of—the time's gone by."

It was now nearly a quarter past three o'clock. "It's passing strange!" thought Gammon, as he looked at his watch; "what can be in the wind? Not a single man of them been up for either party! Perhaps, after all, Lord De la Zouch may not have come up to their mark, and may now be merely standing on the chance of our being unable to come to terms with them. But what can I do, without certain destruction, after what I have heard? It will be simply jumping down into the pit."—A thought suddenly struck him; and with forced calmness he slipped away from the polling-booth, and, with an affectation of indifference, made his way to a house where a trusty emissary awaited his orders. 'T was a Grilston man, a Yellow voter, as much at Gammon's beck and call as Ben Bran was represented to be at the command of Lord De la Zouch. Gammon despatched him on the following enterprise—viz. to rush alarmedly among the club, who knew him, but not his devotion to Gammon—to tell them that he had just discovered, by mere accident, the frightful danger in which they were placed, owing to Mr. Gammon's being enraged against them on account of their last proposal—that he had now made up his mind to the loss of the election, and also to commence prosecutions for bribery against every single mem ber of the club; for that, having early suspected foul play, he was in a position "to nail every man of them," without fixing himself on Mr. Titmouse. If he succeeded thus far—viz. in alarming them—then, after apparently dire perplexity, he was suddenly to suggest one mode of at once securing themselves, and foiling their bitter enemy, Mr. Gammon; viz. hastening up to the polling-booth, without a word to any one, and, by placing Titmouse at the top of the poll, destroy Gammon's motive for commencing his vindictive proceedings, and so take him in his own trap. Gammon then returned to the polling-booth, (having named the signal by which he was to be apprised of success,) and resumed his former position, without giving to any one near him the slightest intimation of what he had been doing. If he imagined, however, that any movement of his, at so critical a moment, had not been watched, he was grievously mistaken. There were three persons whose sole business it had been, during the whole of that day, to keep a lynx eye upon his every motion, especially as connected with the Quaint Club. But his cunning emissary was equal to the exigency; and having (unseen) reconnoitred the streets for a few moments, he imagined that he detected one, if not two spies, lurking about. He therefore slipped out of a low back window, got down four or five back yards, and so across a small hidden alley, which enabled him to enter, unperceivedly, into the back room of the house he wished.

"Ben! Ben!" he gasped with an air of consternation.

"Hallo, man! what is 't?" quoth Ben.

"Done! every man of you sold! Mr. Gammon turned tail on you!—Just happened to overhear him swear a solemn oath to Mr. Mudflint, that before four-and-twenty hours"....

"Lord!—you did!—did you really?"

"So help me–!" exclaimed the man, aghast.

"What's to be done?" quoth Ben, the perspiration bursting out all over his forehead. "We've been made the cursedest fools of by some one!—Hang me if I think the old beast at Fotheringham, or the young cub either, has ever meant"–

"What signifies it? It's all too late now."

"Isn't there any way—eh? To be sure, I own I thought we were pitched a leetle too high with Mr. Gam"–

"But he has you now, though; and you'll find he's a devil incarnate!—But stop, I see"—he seemed, as if a thought had suddenly glanced across his puzzled and alarmed mind—"I'll tell you how to do him, and save yourselves yet."

"O Lord!—eh?" exclaimed Ben, breathlessly.

"But are your men all together?"

"Oh ay! in five minutes' time we could all be on our way to the booth."

"Then don't lose a minute—or all's up forever!—Don't explain to them the fix they're in till it's all over—and if ever you tell 'em, or any one, the bit o' service I've"–

"Never, Thomas, so help me–!" quoth Ben, grasping his companion's hand, as in a vice.

"Off all of you to the booth, and poll for life and death, for Titmouse."

"What? Come—come, Master Thomas!"

"Ay, ay—you fool! Don't you see? Make him win the election, and then, in course, Gammon's no cause to be at you—he'll have got all he wants."

"My eyes!" exclaimed Ben, as he suddenly perceived the stroke of policy. He snapped his finger, buttoned his coat, popped out of the house—within a few moments he was in the midst of the club, who were all in a back yard, behind a small tavern which they frequented. "Now, lads!" he exclaimed with a wink of his eye. He took the yellow and the blue colors out of his bosom: returned the blue, and mounted the yellow: so in a trice did every one present, not one single question having been asked at Ben, in whom they had perfect confidence.

But, to return to Mr. Gammon. It was now a moment or two past the half hour—there was scarcely half an hour more before the election must close. The mob were getting sullen. The Quaint Club were being asked for—now with hisses, then with cheers. All eyes were on Gammon, who felt that they were. His face bore witness to the intensity of his emotions; he did not any longer even attempt to disguise his desperate disappointment. His nerves were strung to their highest pitch of tension; and his eye glanced incessantly, but half-closed, towards a corner house at a little distance; ah! that eye was suddenly lit up, as it were, with fire—never had been such an instantaneous change seen in a man's face before. He had at length caught the appointed signal; a man appeared at a window, and appeared accidentally to drop a little stick into the street. A mighty sigh escaped from the pent-up bosom of Gammon, and relieved him from a sense of suffocation. His feelings might have been compared to those excited in our great commander, when the Prussians made their appearance at Waterloo. The battle was won; defeat converted into triumph; but suddenly recollecting himself—aware that every muscle of his face was watched—he relapsed into his former gloom. Presently were heard the approaching sounds of music—nearer and nearer came the clash of cymbals, the clangor of trombone and trumpet, the roll of the drum;—all the crowd turned their faces towards the quarter whence the sounds came, and within a few seconds' time was seen turning the corner, full on its way to the booth, the banner of the Quaint Club, with yellow rosettes streaming from the top of each pole—yellow ribbons on every one's breast. The People's cause had triumphed! Their oppressors were prostrate! A wild and deafening shout of triumph burst from the crowd, as if they had been one man; and continued for several minutes intermingled with the inspiriting sounds of the noble air—"Rule Britannia!" played by the two bands, (that of Mr. Titmouse having instantly joined them.) On marched the club, two and two, arm in arm, with rapid step; their faces flushed with excitement and exultation—their hands vehemently shaken by the shouting crowd, who opened a broad lane for them up to the polling-booth. Oh, the contrast exhibited in the faces of those standing there! What gloom, what vexation, what despair, on the one hand—what signs of frantic excitement, joy, and triumph, on the other! "Titmouse!" cried the first member of the club, as he gave his vote; "Titmouse!" cried the second; "Titmouse!" cried the third; "Titmouse!" cried the fourth. The battle was won. Mr. Titmouse was in a majority, which went on increasing every minute, amid tremendous cheering. Mr. Gammon's face and figure would at that moment have afforded a study for a picture; the strongly repressed feeling of triumph yet indicating its swelling influence upon his marked and expressive countenance, where an accurate eye might have detected also the presence of deep anxiety. Again and again were his hands shaken by those near him—Mudflint, Bloodsuck, Woodlouse, Centipede, Going Gone, Ginblossom—as they enthusiastically gave him credit for the transcendent skill he had exhibited, and the glorious result it had secured. As the church clock struck four, the books were closed, and the election was declared at an end, with eighteen of Mr. Titmouse's voters yet unpolled! Within a few minutes afterwards, Mr. Going Gone hastily chalked upon the board, and held it up exultingly to the crowd,—

"Hurrah!—hurrah!—hip, hip, hip, hurrah!" burst from the crowd, while hands were upraised and whirled round, hats flung into the air, and every other mark of popular excitement exhibited. "Titmouse!—Titmouse!—Nine Times nine for Mr. Titmouse!" was called for, and responded to with thrilling and overpowering effect. The newly elected member, however, could not be pinched, or shaken, or roused, out of the drunken stupor into which, from the combined influence of liquor and excitement, he had sunk. To enable him to go through the responsible duties of the day—viz. bobbing his head every now and then to the worthy and independent electors who came to invest him with the proud character of their representative in the House of Commons—he had brought in his pocket a flask of brandy, which had been thrice replenished: in a word, the popular idol was decidedly not presentable: and under the impulse of strong emotion, Mr. Gammon, infinitely to the disgust of the Reverend Smirk Mudflint, who was charged up to his throat with combustible matter, and ready to go off at an instant's notice, stepped forward, and on removing his hat, was received with several distinct and long-continued rounds of applause. Silence having been at length partially restored—

"Yes, gentlemen," he commenced in an energetic tone, and with an excited and determined air and manner, "well may you utter those shouts of joy, for you have fought a noble fight, and won a glorious victory, (great cheering.) Your cause, the cause of freedom and good government, is triumphant over all opposition, (immense cheering.) The hideous forms of bigotry and tyranny are at this moment lying crushed and writhing, (vehement cheering rendered the rest of the sentence inaudible.) Gentlemen, truth and independence have this day met and overthrown falsehood and slavery, (cheers,) in spite of the monstrous weapons with which they came into the field, (groans)—bribery, (groans,) corruption, (groans,) intimidation, (hisses,) coercion, and treachery, (mingled groans and hisses.) But, gentlemen, thank God, all was in vain! (enthusiastic cheering.) I will not say that a defeated despot is at this moment sitting with sullen scowl in a neighboring castle, (tremendous shouts of applause;) all his schemes frustrated, all his gold scattered in vain, and trampled under foot by the virtuous electors whom he sought first to corrupt, and then degrade into slaves, (great cheering.) Gentlemen, let us laugh at his despair, (loud and prolonged laughter;) but let us rejoice like men, like freemen, that the degraded and execrable faction to which he belongs, is defeated, (cheering.) Gentlemen, if ever there was a contest in which public spirit and principle triumphed over public and private profligacy, this has been it; and by this time to-morrow, hundreds of constituencies will be told, as their own struggles are approaching, to—look at Yatton—to emulate her proud and noble example; and England will soon be enabled to throw off the hateful incubus that has so long oppressed her, (immense cheering.) But, gentlemen, you are all exhausted, (No! no! and vehement cheers;) Mr. Titmouse's friends are all exhausted after the great labor and excitement of this glorious day, and need repose, in order that on the morrow we may meet refreshed, to enjoy the full measure of our triumph, (cheering.) In particular, your distinguished representative, Mr. Titmouse, worn out with the excitement of the day, long depressed by the adverse aspect of the poll, was so overpowered with the sudden and glorious change effected by that band of patriots who–(the rest of the sentence was drowned in cheering.) Gentlemen, he is young, and unaccustomed to such extraordinary and exciting scenes, (hear, hear, hear!) but by the morrow he will have recovered sufficiently to present himself before you, and thank you with enthusiasm and gratitude, (cheers.) In his name, gentlemen, I do, from my soul, thank you for the honor which you have conferred upon him, and assure you that he considers any past success with which Providence may have blessed him, (hear, hear, hear!) as nothing, when compared with the issue of this day's struggle, (cheering.) Rely upon it, that his conduct in Parliament will not disgrace you, (no, no, no!) And now, gentlemen, I must conclude, trusting that with victory will cease animosity, and that there will be an immediate declaration of those feelings of frank and manly cordiality, and good feeling, which ought to distinguish free fellow-citizens, and which, above all, are signally characteristic of Englishmen, (cheering.) Shake hands, gentlemen, with a fallen enemy, (we will, we will!) and forget, having conquered, that you ever fought."

With these words, uttered with the fervor and eloquence which had indeed distinguished the whole of his brief address, he resumed his hat, amid tremendous shouts of "three times three for Mr. Titmouse!"—"three times three for Mr. Gammon!"—"nine times nine groans for Mr. Delamere!"—all of which were given with tumultuous energy. The two bands approached; the procession formed; the nearly insensible Titmouse, his face deadly pale, and his hat awry, was partly supported and partly dragged along between Mr. Gammon and Mr. Going Gone; and to the inspiring air of "See the Conquering Hero comes," and accompanied by the cheering crowd, they all marched in procession to Mr. Titmouse's committee-room. He was hurried up-stairs; then led into a bedroom; and there soon, alas! experienced the overmastering power of sickness; which instantly obliterated all recollection of his triumph, and made him utterly unconscious of the brilliant position to which he had just been elevated—equally to the honor of himself and his constituency, who justly and proudly regarded

"Tittlebat Titmouse, Esq., M. P."

as the glorious first-fruits to them of the glorious "Bill for giving Everybody Everything."

At a late hour, that night, an interview took place between Ben Bran and Mr. Gammon, of which all that I shall say at present is, that it was equally confidential and satisfactory. There can be no harm, however, in intimating that Mr. Gammon made no allusion to the arrival of the Greek kalends; but he did to–the fifteenth day after the meeting of Parliament.2 He satisfied Ben—and through him the Quaint Club—that Lord De la Zouch's agents had been only deluding them, and had laid a deep plan for ensnaring the club—which Gammon had early seen through, and endeavored to defeat. A little circumstance which happened some two or three days afterwards, seemed to corroborate the truth of at least a portion of his statements—viz. eight prosecutions for bribery were brought against so many members of the Quaint Club: and on their hastily assembling to consult upon so startling an incident, one still more so came to light;—five leading members were not to be found!! Writs in actions for penalties of £500 each, were on the same day served upon—Barnabas Bloodsuck, Smirk Mudflint, (otherwise called the Reverend Smirk Mudflint,) Cephas Woodlouse, and—woe is me that I should have it to record!—"Oily Gammon, gentleman, one of the attorneys of our lord the king, before the king himself, at Westminster." The amount claimed from him was £4,000; from Bloodsuck £3,000; and from Mudflint £2,500, which would, alas! have alone absorbed all the pew-rents of his little establishment for one hundred years to come, if his system of moral teaching should so long live. What was the consternation of these gentlemen to discover, when in their turn they called a private meeting of their leading friends, that one of them also was missing—viz. Judas M'Do'em! Moreover, it was palpable that amid an ominous silence and calmness on the other side—even on the part of the True Blue—the most guarded and systematic and persevering search for evidence was going on; and with all Gammon's self-possession, the sudden sight of Mr. Crafty stealthily quitting the house of an humble Yellow voter, a week after the election, occasioned him somewhat sickening sensations. Gammon was not unaccustomed to wade in deep waters; but these were very deep! However, a great point had been gained. Mr. Titmouse was M. P. for Yatton; and Mr. Gammon had maintained his credit in high quarters, where he had stood pledged as to the result of the election; having been long before assured that every member returned into the new Parliament was worth his weight in gold. Such were the thoughts passing through the acute and powerful mind of Gammon, as he sat late one night, shortly afterwards, alone at Yatton, Mr. Titmouse having retired to his bedroom half stupefied with liquor, and anxious to complete matters by smoking himself to sleep. The wind whistled cheerlessly round the angle of the Hall in which was situated the room where he sat, his feet resting on the fender, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed on the fire. Then he took up the newspaper recently arrived from town, which contained a report of his speech to the electors at the close of the poll; it was the organ of the Whig party—the Morning Growl; and its leading article commented in very encomiastic terms upon his address, "given in another part of the paper." His soul heaved with disgust at the thoughts of his own dissimulation;—"Independence!" "Purity of Election!" "Public Principle!" "Triumph of Principle!" "Popular enthusiasm!" "Man of the people!"—"Look," thought he—"eugh—at Titmouse! Is representation an utter farce—a mere imaginary privilege of the people? If not, what but public swindlers are we who procure the return of such idiots as—faugh! Would I had been on the other"–He rose, sighed, lit his chamber candle, and retired to bed, but not to rest; for he spent several hours in endeavoring to retrace every step which he had taken in the election—with a view to ascertain how far it could be proved that he had legally implicated himself. The position in which, indeed, he and those associated with him in the proceedings, were placed, was one which required his most anxious consideration, with a view, not merely to the retention of Mr. Titmouse's seat, so hardly won, but to the tremendous personal liabilities with which it was sought to fix himself, Gammon. The inquiries which he instituted into the practices which he had been led to believe prevailed openly upon the other side, led to no satisfactory results. If the enemy had bribed, they had done so with consummate skill and caution. Yet he chose to assume the air of one who thought otherwise; and gave directions for writs for penalties to be forthwith served upon Mr. Parkinson, Mr. Gold, Mr. St. Aubyn, and Mr. Milnthorpe—all of whom, as indeed he had expected, only laughed at him. But it was wofully different as regarded himself and his friends; for, before Mr. Crafty took his departure from Yatton, he had collected a body of evidence, against all of them, of the most fearful stringency and completeness. In fact, Lord De la Zouch had determined that, if it cost him ten thousand pounds more, he would spare no effort, as well to secure the seat for his son, as to punish those who had been guilty of the atrocious practices which had been revealed to him.

Need I say with what intense interest, with what absorbing anxiety, the progress of this contest had been watched by the Aubreys? From Lady De la Zouch and other friends, but more especially from Dr. Tatham, who had regularly forwarded the True Blue, and also written frequent and full letters, they had learned, from time to time, all that was going on. Mr. Aubrey had prepared them for the adverse issue of the affair; he had never looked for anything else; but could he or any of them feel otherwise than a painful and indignant sympathy with the little doctor, on reading his account of the gross insult which had been offered to him at the hustings? Kate, before she had read half of it, sprang from her chair, threw down the letter, cried bitterly, then kissed the venerable doctor's handwriting, and walked to and fro, flashing lightning from her eyes, as her vivid fancy painted to her with painful distinctness that scene of wanton and brutal outrage on one of the most gentle, benevolent, and spotless of God's creatures, whose name was associated in all their minds with everything that was pious, pure, and good—indeed they were all powerfully affected. As for the Reverend Smirk Mudflint—"Presumptuous wretch!" quoth Kate, as her flashing eye met that of her brother: and he felt that his feelings, like her own, could not be expressed. The first account she received of the outrage perpetrated on Delamere was in the columns of the True Blue, which, being published on the evening of the nomination, had been instantly forwarded to town by Dr. Tatham. It blanched her cheek; she then felt a mist coming over her eyes—a numbness—a faintness ensued, and she sank upon the sofa, and swooned. It was a long while, after she had recovered, before a flood of tears relieved her excitement. 'T was no use disguising matters, even had she felt so disposed, before those who felt so exquisite and vivid a sympathy with her; and who did not restrain their ardent and enthusiastic expressions of admiration at the spirited and noble manner in which Delamere had commenced and carried on his adventure. At whose instance, and to please whom, had it been really undertaken? Kate's heart fluttered intensely at the bare notion of seeing him again in Vivian Street. He would come—she felt—with a sort of claim upon her!—And he made his at once desired and dreaded appearance some days afterwards, quite unexpectedly. Kate was playing on the piano, and had not heard his knock; so that he was actually in the drawing-room before she was aware of his being in London, or had formed the slightest expectation of such an event.

"Heavens, Mr. Delamere!—Is it you?" she stammered, rising from the piano, her face having suddenly become pale.

"Ay, sweet Kate—unless I am become some one else, as—the rejected of Yatton"—he replied fondly, as he grasped her hands fervently in his own, and led her to the sofa.

"Don't—don't—Mr. Delamere"—said she, faintly, striving to disengage one of her hands, which she instantly placed before her eyes to conceal her rising emotion. Her brother and Mrs. Aubrey considerately came to her relief, by engaging Delamere in conversation. He saw their object; and releasing Miss Aubrey, for the present, from his attentions, soon had entered into a long and very animated account of all his Yatton doings. In spite of herself, as it were, Kate drew near the table, and, engrossed with interest, listened, and joined in the conversation, as if it had not been actually Delamere who was sitting beside her. He made very light of the little accident of the wounded lip—but as he went on, Kate looked another way, her eyes obstructed with tears, and her very heart yearning towards him. "Oh, Mr. Delamere!"—she suddenly and vehemently exclaimed—"what wretches they were to use you so!" and then blushed scarlet.

"Well—see if I'm not M.P. for Yatton, yet"—said Delamere, with a confident air, just before he rose to go—"and that within a few weeks, too, and then"–