The Reminiscences of Sir Henry Hawkins (Baron Brampton) Part 26

Hogarth's "March to Finchley" was outdone by that march to the Barnstaple town hall. An enormous body of electors, "free and independent" stamped on their faces as well as their hands, was gathered there, and it was a long time before we could get anywhere near the door.

Again and again the air was rent with the cries for "Orkins," and it was perfectly useless for the police to attempt to clear the way.

They had me as if on show, and it was only by the most wonderful perseverance and good luck that I found myself going head first along the corridor leading to the hall itself.

When I appeared on the platform, it seemed as if Barnstaple had never seen such a man; they were mad with joy, and all wanted to shake hands with me at once. I dodged a good many, and by dint of waving his arms like a semaph.o.r.e the chairman succeeded, not in restoring peace, but in moderating the noise.

I now had an opportunity of using my eyes, and there before me in one of the front seats was the redoubtable Cave--the great canva.s.sing Cave--who instantly rose and gave me the most cordial welcome, trusted I was to be his future colleague in the House, and was most generous in his expressions of admiration for the people of Barnstaple, especially the voting portion of them, and hoped I should have a very pleasant time and never forget dear old Barnstaple. I said I was not likely to--nor am I.

Of course I had to address the a.s.sembled electors first after the introduction by the chairman, who, taking a long time to inform us what the electors _wanted_, I made up my mind what to say in order to convince them that they should have it. I gave them hopes of a great deal of legal reform and reduction of punishments, for I thought that would suit most of them best, and then gladly a.s.sented to a satisfactory adjustment of all local requirements and improvements, as well as a determined redress of grievances which should on no account be longer delayed. ("Orkins for ever!")

Then Cave stood up--an imposing man, with a good deal of presence and shirt-collar--who invited any man--indeed, _challenged_ anybody--in that hall to question him on any subject whatever.

The challenge was accepted, and up stood one of the rank and file of the electors--no doubt sent by the Howell Gwynne party--and with a voice that showed at least he meant to be heard, said,--

"Mr. Cave, first and foremost of all, I should like to know _how your missus is to-day_?"

It was scarcely a political or public question, but n.o.body objected, and everybody roared with laughter, because it seemed at all political meetings Cave had started the fashion, which has been adopted by many candidates since that time, of referring _to his wife_! Cave always began by saying he could never go through this ordeal without the help and sympathy of his dear wife--his support and joy--at whose bidding and in pursuit of whose dreams he had come forward to win a seat in their uncorruptible borough, and to represent them--the most coveted honour of his life--in the House of Commons.

Of course this oratory, having a religious flavour, took with a very large body of the Barnstaple electors, and was always received with cheers as an encouragement to domestic felicity and faithfulness to connubial ties.

When this gentleman put the question, Cave answered as though it was asked in real earnest, and was cheered to the echo, not merely for his domestic felicity, but his cool contempt for any man who could so far forget connubial bliss as to sneer at it.

For a few days all went tolerably well, and then I was told that a very different kind of influence prevailed in the borough than that of religion or political morality, and that it would be perfectly hopeless to expect to win the seat unless I was prepared to purchase the large majority of electors; indeed, that I must buy almost every voter. (That's what they meant by "Give it 'em, Orkins! Let 'em 'ave it!")

This I refused to believe; but it was said they were such free and independent electors that they would vote for _either_ party, and you could not be sure of them until the last moment; in fact, _if I would win I must bribe_! to say nothing of all sorts of subscriptions to cricket clubs and blanket clubs, as well as friendly societies of all kinds.

I declined to accept these warnings, and looked upon it as some kind of political dodge got up by the other side.

I resolved to win by playing the game, and made up my mind to go to the poll on the political questions which were agitating the public mind, as I was informed, by a simple honest candidature, thinking that in political as in every other warfare honesty is the best policy. On that n.o.ble maxim I entered into the contest, believing in Barnstaple, and feeling confident I should represent it in Parliament.

To indulge in bribery of any sort would, I knew, be fatal to my own interests even if I had not been actuated by any higher motive. I placed myself, therefore, in the hands of my friend and princ.i.p.al agent, Mr. Kingston, as well as the other agents of the party.

We did not long, however, remain true to ourselves. There was a hitch somewhere which soon developed into a split; and it was certain some of us must go to the wall. I could not, however, understand the reason of it; we professed the same politics, the same "cause," the same battle-cry, the same enemies. But, whatever it was, we were so much divided that my chances of heading the poll were diminishing.

I had been cheered to the echo night after night and all day long, so that there was enough shouting to make a Prime Minister; my horses had time after time been taken from my carriage, and cheering voters drew me along. These unmistakable signs of popular devotion to my interests had been most encouraging; and as they shouted themselves hoa.r.s.e for me, I talked myself hoa.r.s.e for them. We had a mutual hoa.r.s.eness for each other. Everything looked like success; everything _sounded_ like success; and night after night out came drum and clarionet to do their duty manfully in drumming me to my hotel.

It had been a remarkable success; everybody said so. Most of them declared solemnly they had never seen anything like it. They p.r.o.nounced it a record popularity. I thought it was because the good people had selected me as their candidate on independent and purity of election principles. This explanation gave them great joy, and they cheered with extra enthusiasm for their own virtue. Judge, then, my surprise a short while after, when, notwithstanding the firm principles upon which we had proceeded, and by which my popularity was secured, I began to perceive that _money was the only thing they wanted_! Their uncorruptible nature yielded, alas! to the lowering influence of that deity.

It was at first a little mysterious why they should have postponed their demands--secret and silent--until almost the last moment; but the fact is, a large section of my party were dissatisfied with the voluntary nature of their services; they declined to work for nothing, and having shown me that the prize--that is, the seat--was mine, they determined to let me know it must be paid for. A large number of my voters would do nothing; they kept their hands in their pockets because they could not get them into mine.

This was no longer a secret, but on the eve of the election was boldly put forward as a demand, and I was plainly told that 500 distributed in small sums would make my election sure.

As, however, in no circ.u.mstances would I stoop to their offer, this demand did not in the least influence me--I never wavered in my resolution, and refused to give a farthing. Furthermore, showing the web in which they sought to entangle me, the same voice that suggested the 500 also informed me that I was closely watched by a couple of detectives set on by the other side.

I was well aware that the "other side" had given five-pound notes for votes, but I could neither follow the example nor use the information, as it was told me "in the strictest confidence."

I was therefore powerless, and felt we were drifting asunder more and more. At last came the polling day, and a happy relief from an unpleasant situation it certainly was.

A fine bright morning ushered in an exciting day. There was a great inrush of voters at the polling-booth, friendly votes, if I may call them so--votes, I mean to say, of honest supporters; these were my acquaintances made during my sojourn at Barnstaple; others came, a few for Cave as well as myself. Cave did not seem to enjoy the popularity that I had achieved. Still, he got a few votes.

Now came an exciting scene. About midday, the working man's dinner hour, the tide began to turn, for the whole body of _bribed_ voters were released from work. My majority quickly dwindled, and at length disappeared, until I was in a very hopeless minority. Everywhere it was "Stukely for ever!" Some cried, "Stukely and free beer!" Stukely, who till now had hardly been anybody, and had not talked himself hoa.r.s.e in their interests as I had, was the great object of their admiration and their hopes.

The consequence of this sudden development of Stukely's popularity was that Cave united his destiny with the new favourite, and such an involution of parties took place that "Stukely and Cave" joined hand in hand and heart to heart, while poor Howell Gwynne and myself were abandoned as useless candidates. At one o'clock it was clear that I must be defeated by a large majority.

The Cave party then approached me with the modest request that, as it was quite clear that I could not be returned, would I mind attending the polling places and give my support to Cave?

This piece of unparalleled impudence I declined to accede to, and did nothing. The election was over so far as I was interested in its result; but I was determined to have a parting word with the electors before leaving the town. I was mortified at the unblushing treachery and deception of my supporters.

I was next asked what I proposed to do. It was their object to get me out of the town as soon as possible, for if unsuccessful as a candidate, I might be troublesome in other ways. Such people are not without a sense of fear, if they have no feeling of shame.

I said I should do nothing but take a stroll by the river, the day being fine, and come back when the poll was declared and make them a little speech.

The little speech was exactly what they did not want, so in the most friendly manner they informed me that a fast train would leave Barnstaple at a certain time, and that probably I would like to catch that, as no doubt I wished to be in town as early as possible to attend to my numerous engagements. If they had chartered the train themselves they could not have shown greater consideration for my interests. But I informed them that I should stop and address the electors, and with this statement they turned sulkily away.

At the appointed hour for the declaration of the poll I was on the hustings--well up there, although the lowest on the poll. Stukely and Cave were first and second, Howell Gwynne and myself third and _last_!

When my turn came to address the mult.i.tude, I spoke in no measured terms as to the conduct of the election, which I denounced as having been won by the most scandalous bribery and corruption.

All who were present as unbia.s.sed spectators were sorry, and many of them expressed a wish that I would return on a future day.

"Not," said I, "until the place has been purged of the foul corruption with which it is tainted."

I had resolved to leave by the mail train, and was actually accompanied to the station by a crowd of some 2,000 people, including the Rector, or Vicar of the parish, who gave me G.o.dspeed on my journey home.

This kind and sincere expression of goodwill and sympathy was worth all the boisterous cheers with which I had been received.

On the platform at the railway station I had to make another little speech, and then I took my seat, not for Barnstaple, but London. As the train drew out of the station, the people clung to the carriage like bees, and although I had not even honeyed words to give them, they gave me a "send-off" with vociferous cheers and the most cordial good wishes.

Thus I bade good-bye to Barnstaple, never to return or be returned, and I can only say of that enlightened and independent const.i.tuency that, while seeking the interests of their country, they never neglected their own.

I need not add that I learnt a great deal in that election which was of the greatest importance in the conduct of the Parliamentary pet.i.tions which were showered upon me.

Before I accepted the candidature of Barnstaple, a friend of mine said he had been making inquiries as to how the little borough of Totnes could be won, and that the lowest figure required as an instalment to commence with was 7,000.

After this I had no more to do with electioneering in the sense of being a candidate, but a good deal to do with it in every other.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

THE TICHBORNE CASE.

[The greatest of all chapters in the life of Mr. Hawkins was the prosecution of the impostor Arthur Orton for perjury, and yet the story of the Tichborne case is one of the simplest and most romantic.

The heir to the Tichborne baronetcy and estates was shipwrecked while on board the _Bella_ and drowned in 1854. In 1865 a butcher at Wagga Wagga in Australia a.s.sumed the t.i.tle and claimed the estates. But the story is not related in these reminiscences on account of its romantic incidents, but as an incident in the life of Lord Brampton. It is so great that there is nothing in the annals of our ordinary courts of justice comparable with it, either in its magnitude or its advocacy. I speak particularly of the trial for perjury, in which Mr. Hawkins led for the prosecution, and not of the preceding trial, in which he was junior to Sir John Coleridge.

It is impossible to give more than the _points_ of this strange story as they were made, and the real _facts_ as they were elicited in cross-examination and pieced together in his opening speech and his reply in the case for the Crown. What rendered the task the more difficult was that his predecessors had so bungled the cross-examination in many ways that they not only had not elicited what they might have done, but actually, by many questions, furnished information to the Claimant which enabled him to carry on his imposture.]