MOGGS, PURITY, AND THE RIGHTS OF LABOUR.
Mr. Trigger had hinted that Ontario Moggs would be a thorn in the
flesh of Mr. Westmacott's supporters at Percycross, and he had
been right. Ontario was timid, hesitating, and not unfrequently
brow-beaten in the social part of his work at the election. Though he
made great struggles he could neither talk, nor walk, nor eat, nor
sit, as though he were the equal of his colleague. But when they came
to politics and political management, there was no holding him. He
would make speeches when speeches were not held to be desirable by
his committee, and he was loud upon topics as to which it was thought
that no allusion whatever should have been made. To talk about the
ballot had from the first been conceded to Moggs. Mr. Westmacott
was, indeed, opposed to the ballot; but it had been a matter
of course that the candidate of the people should support that
measure. The ballot would have been a safety-valve. But Moggs was so
cross-grained, ill-conditioned, and uncontrollable that he would not
let the ballot suffice him. The ballot was almost nothing to him.
Strikes and bribery were his great subjects; the beauty of the one
and the ugliness of the other. The right of the labourer to combine
with his brother labourers to make his own terms for his labour, was
the great lesson he taught. The suicidal iniquity of the labourer
in selling that political power which he should use to protect his
labour was the source of his burning indignation. That labour was the
salt of the earth he told the men of Percycross very often;--and he
told them as often that manliness and courage were necessary to make
that salt productive. Gradually the men of Percycross,--some said
that they were only the boys of Percycross,--clustered round him, and
learned to like to listen to him. They came to understand something
of the character of the man who was almost too shame-faced to speak
to them while he was being dragged round to their homes on his
canvas, but whom nothing could repress when he was on his legs with
a crowd before him. It was in vain that the managing agent told him
that he would not get a vote by his spouting and shouting. On such
occasions he hardly answered a word to the managing agent. But the
spouting and shouting went on just the same, and was certainly
popular among the bootmakers and tanners. Mr. Westmacott was asked
to interfere, and did do so once in some mild fashion; but Ontario
replied that having been called to this sphere of action he could
only do his duty according to his own lights. The young men's
presidents, and secretaries, and chairmen were for awhile somewhat
frightened, having been assured by the managing men of the liberal
committee that the election would be lost by the furious insanity of
their candidate. But they decided upon supporting Moggs, having found
that they would be deposed from their seats if they discarded him. At
last, when the futile efforts to control Moggs had been maintained
with patience for something over a week, when it still wanted four or
five days to the election, an actual split was made in the liberal
camp. Moggs was turned adrift by the Westmacottian faction. Bills
were placarded about the town explaining the cruel necessity for such
action, and describing Moggs as a revolutionary firebrand. And now
there were three parties in the town. Mr. Trigger rejoiced over this
greatly with Mr. Griffenbottom. "If they haven't been and cut their
throats now it is a wonder," he said over and over again. Even Sir
Thomas caught something of the feeling of triumph, and began almost
to hope that he might be successful. Nevertheless the number of men
who could not quite make up their minds as to what duty required of
them till the day of the election was considerable, and Mr. Pile
triumphantly whispered into Mr. Trigger's ear his conviction that
"after all, things weren't going to be changed at Percycross quite so
easily as some people supposed."
When Moggs was utterly discarded by the respectable leaders of the
liberal party in the borough,--turned out of the liberal inn at
which were the head-quarters of the party, and refused the right
of participating in the liberal breakfasts and dinners which were
there provided, Moggs felt himself to be a triumphant martyr. His
portmanteau and hat-box were carried by an admiring throng down to
the Cordwainers' Arms,--a house not, indeed, of the highest repute in
the town,--and here a separate committee was formed. Mr. Westmacott
did his best to avert the secession; but his supporters were
inexorable. The liberal tradesmen of Percycross would have nothing to
do with a candidate who declared that inasmuch as a man's mind was
more worthy than a man's money, labour was more worthy than capital,
and that therefore the men should dominate and rule their masters.
That was a doctrine necessarily abominable to every master tradesman.
The men were to decide how many hours they would work, what
recreation they would have, in what fashion and at what rate they
would be paid, and what proportion of profit should be allowed to the
members, and masters, and creators of the firm! That was the doctrine
that Moggs was preaching. The tradesmen of Percycross, whether
liberal or conservative, did not understand much in the world of
politics, but they did understand that such a doctrine as that, if
carried out, would take them to a very Gehenna of revolutionary
desolation. And so Moggs was banished from the Northern Star, the
inn at which Mr. Westmacott was living, and was forced to set up his
radical staff at the Cordwainers' Arms.
In one respect he certainly gained much by this persecution. The
record of his election doings would have been confined to the columns
of the "Percycross Herald" had he carried on his candidature after
the usual fashion; but, as it was now, his doings were blazoned in
the London newspapers. The "Daily News" reported him, and gave him an
article all to himself; and even the "Times" condescended to make an
example of him, and to bring him up as evidence that revolutionary
doctrines were distasteful to the electors of the country generally.
The fame of Ontario Moggs certainly became more familiar to the ears
of the world at large than it would have done had he continued to run
in a pair with Mr. Westmacott. And that was everything to him. Polly
Neefit must hear of him now that his name had become a household word
in the London newspapers.
And in another respect he gained much. All personal canvassing was
now at an end for him. There could be no use in his going about from
house to house asking for votes. Indeed, he had discovered that to do
so was a thing iniquitous in itself, a demoralising practice tending
to falsehood, intimidation, and corruption,--a thing to be denounced.
And he denounced it. Let the men of Percycross hear him, question him
in public, learn from his spoken words what were his political
principles,--and then vote for him if they pleased. He would
condescend to ask a vote as a favour from no man. It was for them
rather to ask him to bestow upon them the gift of his time and such
ability as he possessed. He took a very high tone indeed in his
speeches, and was saved the labour of parading the streets. During
these days he looked down from an immeasurable height on the
truckling, mean, sordid doings of Griffenbottom, Underwood, and
Westmacott. A huge board had been hoisted up over the somewhat low
frontage of the Cordwainers' Arms, and on this was painted in letters
two feet high a legend which it delighted him to read, MOGGS, PURITY,
AND THE RIGHTS OF LABOUR. Ah, if that could only be understood, there
was enough in it to bring back an age of gold to suffering humanity!
No other Reform would be needed. In that short legend everything
necessary for man was contained.
Mr. Pile and Mr. Trigger stood together one evening looking at the
legend from a distance. "Moggs and purity!" said Mr. Pile, in that
tone of disgust, and with that peculiar action which had become
common to him in speaking of this election.
"He hasn't a ghost of a chance," said Mr. Trigger, who was always
looking straight at the main point;--"nor yet hasn't Westmacott."
"There's worse than Westmacott," said Mr. Pile.
"But what can we do?" said Trigger.
"Purity! Purity!" said the old man. "It makes me that sick that I
wish there weren't such a thing as a member of Parliament. Purity and
pickpockets is about the same. When I'm among 'em I buttons up my
breeches-pockets."
"But what can we do?" asked Mr. Trigger again, in a voice of woe. Mr.
Trigger quite sympathised with his elder friend; but, being a younger
man, he knew that these innovations must be endured.
Then Mr. Pile made a speech, of such length that he had never been
known to make the like before;--so that Mr. Trigger felt that things
had become very serious, and that, not impossibly, Mr. Pile might be
so affected by this election as never again to hold up his head in
Percycross. "Purity! Purity!" he repeated. "They're a going on that
way, Trigger, that the country soon won't be fit for a man to live
in. And what's the meaning of it all? It's just this,--that folks
wants what they wants without paying for it. I hate Purity, I do. I
hate the very smell of it. It stinks. When I see the chaps as come
here and talk of Purity, I know they mean that nothing ain't to be as
it used to be. Nobody is to trust no one. There ain't to be nothing
warm, nor friendly, nor comfortable any more. This Sir Thomas you've
brought down is just as bad as that shoemaking chap;--worse if
anything. I know what's a going on inside him. I can see it. If a man
takes a glass of wine out of his bottle, he's a asking hisself if
that ain't bribery and corruption! He's got a handle to his name, and
money, I suppose, and comes down here without knowing a chick or a
child. Why isn't a poor man, as can't hardly live, to have his three
half-crowns or fifteen shillings, as things may go, for voting for a
stranger such as him? I'll tell you what it is, Trigger, I've done
with it. Things have come to that in the borough, that I'll meddle
and make no more." Mr. Trigger, as he listened to this eloquence,
could only sigh and shake his head. "I did think it would last my
time," added Mr. Pile, almost weeping.
Moggs would steal out of the house in the early morning, look up at
the big bright red letters, and rejoice in his very heart of hearts.
He had not lived in vain, when his name had been joined, in the
public view of men, with words so glorious. Purity and the Rights of
Labour! "It contains just everything," said Moggs to himself as he
sat down to his modest, lonely breakfast. After that, sitting with
his hands clasped upon his brow, disdaining the use of pen and paper
for such work, he composed his speech for the evening,--a speech
framed with the purpose of proving to his hearers that Purity and the
Rights of Labour combined would make them as angels upon the earth.
As for himself, Moggs, he explained in his speech,--analysing the big
board which adorned the house,--it mattered little whether they did
or did not return him. But let them be always persistent in returning
on every possible occasion Purity and the Rights of Labour, and then
all other good things would follow to them. He enjoyed at any rate
that supreme delight which a man feels when he thoroughly believes
his own doctrine.
But the days were very long with him. When the evening came, when his
friends were relieved from their toil, and could assemble here and
there through the borough to hear him preach to them, he was happy
enough. He had certainly achieved so much that they preferred him now
to their own presidents and chairmen. There was an enthusiasm for
Moggs among the labouring men of Percycross, and he was always happy
while he was addressing them. But the hours in the morning were
long, and sometimes melancholy. Though all the town was busy with
these electioneering doings, there was nothing for him to do. His
rivals canvassed, consulted, roamed through the town,--as he could
see,--filching votes from him. But he, too noble for such work
as that, sat there alone in the little upstairs parlour of the
Cordwainers' Arms, thinking of his speech for the evening,--thinking,
too, of Polly Neefit. And then, of a sudden, it occurred to him that
it would be good to write a letter to Polly from Percycross. Surely
the fact that he was waging this grand battle would have some effect
upon her heart. So he wrote the following letter, which reached Polly
about a week after her return home from Margate.
Cordwainers' Arms Inn, Percycross,
14 October, 186--.
MY DEAR POLLY,--
I hope you won't be angry with me for writing to you. I am
here in the midst of the turmoil of a contested election,
and I cannot refrain from writing to tell you about it.
Out of a full heart they say the mouth speaks, and out of
a very full heart I am speaking to you with my pen. The
honourable prospect of having a seat in the British House
of Parliament, which I regard as the highest dignity that
a Briton can enjoy, is very much to me, and fills my mind,
and my heart, and my soul; but it all is not so much to me
as your love, if only I could win that seat. If I could
sit there, in your heart, and be chosen by you, not for a
short seven years, but for life, I should be prouder and
happier of that honour than of any other. It ought not,
perhaps, to be so, but it is. I have to speak here to
the people very often; but I never open my mouth without
thinking that if I had you to hear me I could speak with
more energy and spirit. If I could gain your love and the
seat for this borough together, I should have done more
then than emperor, or conqueror, or high priest ever
accomplished.
I don't know whether you understand much about elections.
When I first came here I was joined with a gentleman
who was one of the old members;--but now I stand alone,
because he does not comprehend or sympathise with the
advanced doctrines which it is my mission to preach to the
people. Purity and the Rights of Labour;--those are my
watchwords. But there are many here who hate the very name
of Purity, and who know nothing of the Rights of Labour.
Labour, dear Polly, is the salt of the earth; and I hope
that some day I may have the privilege of teaching you
that it is so. For myself I do not see why ladies should
not understand politics as well as men; and I think that
they ought to vote. I hope you think that women ought to
have the franchise.
We are to be nominated on Monday, and the election will
take place on Tuesday. I shall be nominated and seconded
by two electors who are working men. I would sooner
have their support than that of the greatest magnate in
the land. But your support would be better for me than
anything else in the world. People here, as a rule, are
very lukewarm about the ballot, and they seemed to know
very little about strikes till I came among them. Without
combination and mutual support the working people must be
ground to powder. If I am sent to Parliament I shall feel
it to be my duty to insist upon this doctrine in season
and out of season,--whenever I can make my voice heard.
But, oh Polly, if I could do it with you for my wife, my
voice would be so much louder.
Pray give my best respects to your father and mother. I am
afraid I have not your father's good wishes, but perhaps
if he saw me filling the honourable position of member of
Parliament for Percycross he might relent. If you would
condescend to write me one word in reply I should be
prouder of that than of anything. I suppose I shall be
here till Wednesday morning. If you would say but one kind
word to me, I think that it would help me on the great
day.
I am, and ever shall be,
Your most affectionate admirer,
ONTARIO MOGGS.
[Illustration: "Out of a full heart they say the mouth speaks,
and out of a very full heart I am speaking to you with my pen."]
Polly received this on the Monday, the day of the nomination, and
though she did answer it at once, Ontario did not get her reply till
the contest was over, and that great day had done its best and its
worst for him. But Polly's letter shall be given here. To a well-bred
young lady, living in good society, the mixture of politics and
love which had filled Ontario's epistle might perhaps have been
unacceptable. But Polly thought that the letter was a good letter;
and was proud of being so noticed by a young man who was standing for
Parliament. She sympathised with his enthusiasm; and thought that
she should like to be taught by him that Labour was the Salt of the
Earth,--if only he were not so awkward and long, and if his hands
were habitually a little cleaner. She could not, however, take
upon herself to give him any hope in that direction, and therefore
confined her answer to the Parliamentary prospects of the hour.
DEAR MR. MOGGS,--[she wrote]--I was very much pleased
when I heard that you were going to stand for a member of
Parliament, and I wish with all my heart that you may be
successful. I shall think it a very great honour indeed
to know a member of Parliament, as I have known you for
nearly all my life. I am sure you will do a great deal of
good, and prevent the people from being wicked. As for
ladies voting, I don't think I should like that myself,
though if I had twenty votes I would give them to
you,--because I have known you so long.
Father and mother send their respects, and hope you will
be successful.
Yours truly,
MARYANNE NEEFIT.
Alexandra Cottage, Monday.
When Moggs received this letter he was, not unnaturally, in a state
of great agitation in reference to the contest through which he had
just passed; but still he thought very much of it, and put it in his
breast, where it would lie near his heart. Ah, if only one word of
warmth had been allowed to escape from the writer, how happy could he
have been. "Yes," he said scornfully,--"because she has known me all
her life!" Nevertheless, the paper which her hand had pressed, and
the letters which her fingers had formed, were placed close to his
heart.