Alderman Ralph; or, the history of the Borough and Corporation of the Borough of Willowacre, etc. By A. H

Front matter

OK, THE HISTORY OF THE BOROUGH AND COBPOBATTON OF THE BOEOUGH OP WILLOWACEE. WITH ALL ABOUT THE BRIDGE AND THE BARONET, THE BRIDGE DEED AND THE GREAT SCHOLAR, THE TOLL-KEEPER AND HIS DAUGHTER, THE FIDDLER AND HIS VIRTUES, THE LAWYER AND HIS ROGUERIES, AND ALL THE REST OF IT. BY ADAM H0ENB00K, STUDENT BY HIS OWN FIRESIDE, AND AMONG HIS NEIGHBOURS WHEN HE CAN SECURE THE ARM-CHAIR IN THE CORNER. VOL. I. LONDON: GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & CO., FARRINGDON STREET. 1853. M'CORQUODALE AND CO., PRINTERS, LONDON — WORKS, NEWTON. CONTENTS OF VOX. I. Sunk tjf t /irst.

Page In which all the most important Actors in this great History are introduced— save one; and the narrative extends over three Days and a Night following ...... 1 Chap. I. — The Author's pattern Chapter — containing, as all First Chapters should contain, a short, clear, and most proper Introduction to the important History which is to follow . . . .3 II, — Wherein the History is begun ; and, without paucity of Narrative on the one hand, or superfluity of Record on the other, is carried on to the close of the Second Night . . . .8 III. — Containing matter which an unskilful Peruser may deem Episodical and Fanciful, inasmuch as it chiefly relates to a beautiful Young "Woman and her preparations for a Dinner ; but which the cultured Reader will know could not have been omitted in a History of this superlative Character . . . . .17 IV. — In which the History is advanced to the end of the Thhd Night; and an awful Crisis is reached in the affairs of the Borough of "Willowacre . . . . . . .25 V. — Four new Characters shadowed forth, or dimly placed in Perspective, after a certain process of Picture-logic : the Author's own invention, and more new and remarkable than the Daguerrotype . 32 VI. — Our new Characters receive the living Touch, and begin to walk out from the dim Perspective into the bold Foreground of our Historic Picture : Shadows no longer, they are introduced, in corporal substance, to the Toll-keeper, and the Toll-keeper to them ........ 36 VII. — A most respectable Actor in this sublime Epos — our Minstrel — is exhibited in high vocation : he is laid asleep ; and the first Book of this History concludes . . . - . .40 CONTENTS.

VI Sunk tkr Irrmtir. pago Containing the complete, important, and most interesting History of all that came to pass in the borough of willowacre on the Fourth Day . . . . . . • .53 Chap. I. — The Author invoketh the Muse, being about to treat of high Matters : he inducteth the Willowacre Magnates into their seats ; and the Corporation of the Borough is seen — is heard — is realised, in imposing Conclave . . . . . .55 II. — The Appearance of a strange Visiter in the Guildhall of Willowacre : his Proposition to the Council ; and the way in which it was received . . . . . . .64 III. — In which the History of the Fourth Day is continued ; the Great Scholar is introduced to the Senior Alderman's domesticities; and a foul Conspiracy is begun . . . . .69 IV An Accident lays bare the soft side of the Senior Alderman's heart ; Mr. Pevensey witnesses it, and loves him for it : Mr. Edgar and Miss Alice get better acquainted, and Edgar begins to have some particular thoughts . . . . . .77 V The Fourth Evening restores us, once more, to the Wheat Sheaf parlour ; and transfers us, next, to Mr. Mayor Nicky's. Another step in the Conspiracy . . . , . .85 VI. — The Second Book of this History concludes with a very remarkable Chapter, — seeing that it puts some of our chief Characters to bed, details one singular Conversation, and rehearses what might have made a whole Pamphlet of Soliloquies • . . .92 Muk ilji Æjjirit.

Chapter I

The Author's pattern Chapter— containing, as all First Chapters should contain, a short, clear, and most proper Introduction to the important History "which is to follow. The parlour company at the "Wheat Sheaf, in the little borough and river-port of Willowacre, was the most agreeable in the world. Every member of it seemed not only conscious of his own foibles, but well aware that they were known to all the rest. And so each practised charity towards his companions, in order to secure the exercise of forbearance towards himself. A quarrel never disturbed the cordial good fellowship of that retired little room. Jerry Dimple, the worthy host, declared that one had not occurred there in the memory of living man. The Wheat Sheaf parlour was, in the becoming language of Mr. Pomponius Pratewell, the polished town-clerk, " a homely sanctuary of the neighbourly affections, which each of its custom ary visiters would as soon think of violating, by political ani mosity or party spleen, as he would of committing sacrilege, or brawling in the church."

A sentiment which was repeated in varied language, and with his own peculiar emphasis, by goodly Ralph Trueman, mercer and senior alderman. " Willowacre, gentlemen," he would say, with his hands stuck in the pockets of his large waistcoat, and uttering the words in his usual sonorous style — " Willowacre is a borough which has its politics and its parties. That cannot be denied. Indeed, gentle men, it could not be English and a borough, aud not have them. But, happily, there is one spot iu the borough of Willowacre, and that is the Wheat Sheaf parlour, where, on six days of the week, we can meet and forget both politics and parties, as fully — and I say it with reverence — as we can in the parish church, on the seventh." " Here, as I always say, neighbours," would be added by the ancient mariner, but now harbour-master, Peter Weatherwake, puffing out the smoke in rolling clouds after he had drawn it into his mouth in a copious volume, by way of signifying the heartiness of his satisfaction ; " here, in this snug little parlour, we are always in the smooth water of friendship, and moving with a steady current.

It is, neighbours, a heart-comfort to be able to make a part of the voyage of life as pleasantly as we do here; especially to one who has been in as many storms as I have been in — East, West, North, and South." /, YY CSL, XT Ul Lll, The like experience of storms, and how pleasant it was to ex change them for such a calm, could not be avouched by Diggory Cleavewell, the wealthy carcase butcher, or Mark Siftall, the rich miller, or Gervase Poundsmall, the little apothecary, or Hugh Plombline, the clever master builder, or by any other of the neighbourly guests of the Wheat Sheaf. But each and all could bear ready testimony to the restorative influences of friendly com munion in Jerry Dimple's parlour, on many an evening after a day of brain-toil in business or in bargaining. An observer more widely acquainted with the world than these quiet denizens of Willowacre, would have discerned, had he mixed with them, that there was nothing wonderful in their quietude.

It was undeniable, as Alderman Trueman sagaciously observed, that the inhabitants had their politics, but these were all of one colour — the "true blue:" the single member for the borough having been always on the side of " Church, King, and Constitution," for generations past. Of equal truth was the conjunct observation of goodly Alderman Ralph, that Willowacre had its parties ; but as these were only two, and were composed of a mere individual on the one side, and every other inhabitant of the borough on the other, the dwellers in Willowacre could not make a nearer approach to unanimity without ab solutely reaching it. Situated on the winding Slowflow, and within ten miles of the German Ocean, the prosperity of Willowacre depended chiefly on its fishing and ship traffic. During the French war its inhabitants increased their wealth ; and for that reason were indisposed to wards peace.

But when peace came, they endeavoured to assure themselves that it was better than war. The aged and deeply respected vicar of the parish assisted them in coming to this con clusion : a labour worthy of his sacred profession. Undisturbed by the jar and rivalry of sects, which were unknown in "Willowacre, the good parson did not need to dilute his teachings with warnings against heresy; and his expositions of duty were thus rendered more forceful. The venerable parish church, with its tall,- graceful spire, pointing heavenward and adorning eaith, was a type of him who taught in it; and the pride with which his parishioners showed the structure to visiters, was always mingled with words ot affectionate eulogy on the reverend teacher. There was a bridge over the Slowflow, and by the gates of it stood a toll-house, in which dwelt Gregory Markpence, the sole member of that party to which every other inhabitant of the borough of Willowacre was opposed.

The reasons of their oppo sition were simple and compound. Simple, inasmuch as every man, woman, and child, who wished to cross the bridge, must pay a small coin to Gregory before passing through the gate ; and therefore every man, woman, and child, in Willowacre, was op posed to the party of Markpence. Gregory's temper ought also, perhaps, to be classed among the simple reasons of their opposi tion to him, for it was surly and forbidding, and not a day passed but some passenger over the bridge had to complain of it. ALDERMAN RALPH. The compound reasons, like all compound things, will need to be described with a little more circumlocution. On the side of the river opposite to Willowacre, lay the broad manor of Barleyacre, which adjoined the pleasant village of Meadowbeck, and was the property of Sir Nigel Nickem, a baronet who boasted of Norman ancestry, and dwelt in a distant county.

About the period of the Stuart restoration, one of the Nickems — so said the individual party of Markpence — had built the bridge over the Slowflow, and established the right of taking tolls. It was the hereditary opinion, however, of the aldermanic house of Trueman, that there was some juggle in this important transac tion. A corporate document, goodly Mr. Ralph affirmed, as his fathers had affirmed before him, was once in existence, proving, first, that the corporation of the aucient borough of Willowacre, although then too poor to sustain the whole cost of the bridge, had borne three-tenths of it; secondly, that the family of Nickem was not entitled at any time to the sum total of the tollage, but only to seven-tenths of it ; and thirdly, that the right of toll was not established for ever, but only for a given number of years — which term of years he, Mr. Alderman Ralph, believed had long ago legally expired.

Gregory Markpence was thus regarded as the representative of an antiquated imposture, and '.she agent of extortion. Believing fully in the legal right of his patron, he, on the other hand, con sidered the inhabitants of Willowacre as a crew who would play the part of freebooters, and trample on the Nickem right of tollage if they dare. With this belief, he never thanked any of the people of Willowacre for their coin, even when it was most civilly tendered ; and, if they hesitated, he showed them his teeth and demanded it sternly. Again, since the traffic over the bridge declined after the war, and he knew that the good vicar had reconciled the parishioners of Willowacre to the peace, he hated the vicar. And because he hated the vicar, he hated the church. And hating likewise both people and borough, Gregory hated the old " true blue," and ALDERMAN RALPH. the borough member for the time being, let him be who he might.

Now, if the gentle reader will put himself to the trouble of imagining how all this bad feeling of an individual had its mul tiplied counterpart in the minds of the inhabitants of Willowacre, he will comprehend the compound reasons why they were, one and all — man, woman, and child — opposed to the party of Mark pence, or that of the toll-house. Thus much by way of proem, exordium, or introduction. Not that the half, or the quarter, or the tenth or twentieth part, has been said that might be said, respecting the history, ancient and modern, of the time-honoured borough of Willowacre. Regard ful of the reader's time, pleasure, and patience, as the present historian pledges himself to be throughout, he has said just so much, and no more, as may suffice to give clear-headedness at starting, to all who desire to comprehend the important after chronicle.

And now that more particular and actual history shall be begun with a due regard to order and to exactitude of chronology : great desiderata of a true narrative of which, the candid and well-informed reader must own, many eminent his torians of our day are most culpably neglectful.

Chapter II

.Wherein the History is begun; and, without paucity of Narrative on the one hand, or superfluity of Record on the other, is carried on to the close of the Second Night. Into the peaceful parlour of the Wheat Sheaf, about nine of the clock in the evening of the ninth of gloomy November, and in the year of grace one thousand eight hundred and twenty nine, marched Gregory Markpence. The man had never been in the Wheat Sheaf parlour before ; and peace — perfect peace — was never restored there after. It was an event to be remem bered; and Jerry Dimple marked the date of it with a thick black mark in his copy of Old Moore's Almanac. A heavy foreboding fell upon all hearts as the bridge-keeper entered. The pleasurable talk was suspended, Jerry Dimple's merry laugh was checked in mid-tide, Peter Weatherwake laid down his pipe, and the countenances of all proclaimed that some strange and untoward, and yet more alarming, event was at hand.

Gregory's appearance, even in a place where he was expected, would not have gained him favour. In the place where he now stood, it was an incongruity that rendered him trebly unaccept able to his fellow-townsmen. Gaunt as a wolf, but strong and tall, large-featured, dark-skinned, his unfriendly eyes gleaming from under their huge thick penthouses of brows, and their forbidding effect heightened by a coarse slouched hat, he was the picture of any thing but good-fellowship. He knew that every one in that parlour thought so. But he looked defiance at their thoughts; and there he stood, wrapped in his shaggy great-coat, and resting on his clumsy knobbed staff, scowling round in silence for full three minutes. " Ugh! one would think you imagined Be'lzebub had paid you a visit," he growled at last, and seated himself in the only empty chair.

A great deal of a-hemming and coughing followed among the company; but still nobody answered or saluted Gregory Markpence. " A pint of ale ! " he thundered, silencing the coughing and a hemming, and glaring upon the landlord with a look that roused Jerry's mettle. " Speak for it civilly, then," said Jerry. " I gave you no foul language," said Markpence ; " and I am ready to pay for what I want." " It isn't the valuedom o' the pay," retorted the landlord; " I'd sooner give you the pint for civility, than draw for ye when ye demand it in that hectoring way, even if ye paid ten times the worth of the liquor." Gregory Markpence fixed both his hands on the knob of his clumsy staff, rested his chin upon his knuckles, and, looking sourly upon Jerry Dimple for half a minute before he again spoke, seemed to be considering how he should say something provoking, and yet say it safely.

" The liquor I would not have as a gift," he said ; " for people can't pay rents and taxes, and live by giving. I couldn't pay Sir Nigel Nickem his rent, and live, if I permitted you, Jerry Dimple, and the people of Willowacre, to pass over the bridge for nothing. Now, I never refuse to let you pass over the bridge so long as you pay the toll. I dare not. Here is my money for the pint of ale. If you refuse to draw it for me, you break your license; and you must take the consequences. Alderman Trueman sits there. He is a magistrate of the borough; and he can tell you that I am in the right." " Since you appeal to me, Mr. Markpence," said the goodly alderman, rising, " I advise our worthy host to draw the liquor you have demanded ; and yet I have to observe, that I am by no means sure, sir, that you have the law on your side.

Incivility, sir, is offensive; and the landlord of an inn is not compelled to furnish liquor for offensive people." " Sir, I repeat that I have not uttered any foul language," answered Gregory; " I simply asked for a pint of ale. And if I have not asked for it in a way to please this polite company," he added, in a mocking tone, " pray, let Mr. Town-Clerk, who is called a polite man, show me how I ought to have doffed my hat, and bowed to the ground, while asking for it." " Since you now appeal to me, Mr. Markpence," said Mr. Pomponius Pratewell, " I am sure I need only say, that you know very well no one here expects servility when he advises you to practise civility. It is perfectly true, sir, that you uttered no foul language; but there is a manner — a manner, Mr. Mark pence — which is often more offensive than uncourteous speech."

" Ugh!" replied Gregory, and applied himself to the plated tankard which the landlord placed in his hands. Gregory Markpence had not given " Good health" to the com pany, had replied to Mr. Pratewell's suave speech with the note of a swine, and now emptied his pint measure in the most vulgar way, at one draught. The Wheat Sheaf parlour company were, most properly, deeply offended; and began, one and all, to feel that it was high time to assert their corporate dignity. Glances were exchanged, and wrath was rising; and there is no doubt the storm would have burst on the head of the intruder, had he not suddenly placed the empty vessel on the table, and risen to depart. And depart he did, as unceremoniously as he entered, without word, look, or nod, by way of " Good-night." The anger of the company was changed to uneasy wonder.

" Very strange kind of visit, gentlemen!" said Mr. Alderman Ralph. "Most mysterious!" observed the town-clerk. "What can be the meaning of it?" asked Hugh Plombline, the master-builder. " There's something in the wind," said the old harbour-master, shaking his head, and taking up his pipe to fill it anew. "I wish we could riddle it out," said Mark Siftall, the miller. " Or that we had the materials for compounding a judgment," said Gervase Poundsmall, the apothecary. " I should like to get into the marrow of it," said Diggory Cleavewell, the butcher. " Yes, I wish we could get to the bottom of it," said the landlord, sipping at his own tankard. There was a long and thoughtful silence. The goodly alder man broke it. " Gentlemen," said he, rising very slowly, and placing his hands in the pockets of his waistcoat, which was always esteemed a sign in the Wheat Sheaf parlour that Mr. Ralph had something noteworthy to deliver — " Gentlemen, I rise to ask our respected friend and fellow-townsman and worthy host, one important question : Has this man, to his knowledge, ever been in this parlour before to night?"

" Never," answered Jerry Dimple, solemnly. "Most strange!" observed the alderman, still more solemnly; and then sat down, and placed his head very thoughtfully in his left hand. " Very — very — very ! " observed each of the company in turn, and each likewise assumed a thoughtful posture. There was very little more conversation that night. Mr. Pomjionius Pratewell proposed that they should change the subject; Mr. Gervase Poundsmall called for a toast; Peter Weatherwake made a few remarks about the wind; the land lord sagaciously observed that the days were getting shorter and the nights longer; and the butcher signified his clear belief, that it wanted almost seven weeks to Christmas, and that beef would be higher yet. But it was in vain that individual efforts were made to raise a conversation : there was no united effort : the parlour company at the Wheat Sheaf could not regain its happy self-possession; and before eleven o'clock it had broken up, although it was the time-honoured custom of that hearty group of neighbours not to separate till they heard the chimes play " The old woman a-quaking," at midnight.

It was when Jerry Dimple was left alone, and sat ruefully pondering on what had occurred, that he opened his copy of the almanac, looked knowingly at the hieroglyphics and crooked marks in it, weighed the meaning of what he could not under stand therein, and then scored a thick black mark under the date of that night, with the serious belief that something unlucky would come out of the visit of Gregory Markpence to the Wheat Sheaf parlour. Mr. Alderman Ralph was received at home by his lovely niece, Miss May Silverton, the only child of his only sister, and over whom he yearned with parental fondness, being himself childless, and having been for years a widower. He hastened to tell her the mysterious news of what had transpired at the Wheat Sheaf. She repeated '-'Very strange!" after himself; not because she thought the news so very strange, but because she was thinking of something more strange in her estimation, and was remembering that she must tell it to her uncle ; and yet felt, she knew not why, a difficulty such as she never felt before in telling any thing to her uncle.

Sweet May felt a foolish flutter at her heart, and feared she could not begin ; but she had woman's wit enough to perceive that the alderman's absorption in the Mark pence mystery was most opportune, and took the advantage of it. "A very strange visit, truly!" ruminated Mr. Ralph, with his eyes fixed on the fire. " Very strange ! " echoed May, jingling the dishes on the supper table, — "the young gentleman has been here again to-night, uncle ; he who called on you the other day." " Very !- — Who, my dear 1 " " The gentleman who has lately come to live in the borough. Mr. — Mr. — what is his name?" and May turned to reach some thing from the sideboard which was not wanted on the supper table : " Mr. — bless me ! — the gentleman who has taken the large house that old Alderman Lovesoup used to live in."

" Mr. Gilbert Pevensey, my dear. W ell, what of him ? — strange ! very strange!" " Oh ! he only called to pay his respects to you, uncle, and " — " He is a very worthy young gentleman. Most strange, indeed!" " And he begged very politely, uncle, that I would say he would call again." " I shall be very happy to see him, my dear." " I told him I knew that you would, uncle," rejoined May, with such a gush of happiness at her heart that she slightly won dered why she felt so. And now May bent her mind seriously to comprehend the subject of her uncle's wonder. May still could not perceive that there was any thing very wonderful in it. But she did not say so : her uncle had spoken so kindly about Mr. Pevensey. There was no lack of wonderers elsewhere, however. All over the borough of Willowacre it was buzzed about, the next day, that the savage toll-keeper had intruded himself into the Wheat Sheaf parlour.

" What can be the meaning of it?" every body asked every body else; but nobody could, for the life of them, imagine an answer. " Have you heard of it, neighbour? Did you ever hear of any thing like it before? What does it mean? What did the fellow go there for?" every body demanded. And if an uniniti ated stranger had replied, in his simplicity, " I suppose, to get a pint of ale" — every body would have laughed at his folly and ignorance. Such a shallow reply would not, indeed, have been listened to by any of the people of Willowacre, if it had been made. The circumstance was unparalleled in the history of the old town. The Wheat Sheaf parlour, though the Willowacre people discouraged pride, had ever been esteemed as a meeting place set apart for the real respectability of the borough. There were the Red Lion, and the Black Swan, and the White Horse, and the Blue Pig, and the Ship, and the Plough, and the Lord Nelson, and the Marquis of Granby, all very creditable houses, whei-e any creditable people could resort; and the Magpie, and the Sal mon and Lobster, and the Barley Mow, and the Man in the Moon, and the headless " Silent Woman," and the " Three Loggerheads" — two jolter-heads on the sign, but the spectator was also reckoned one, according to the old joke, — all of which had a good name, but it was among humbler sort of folk.

Had the toll-keeper visited any of these, nobody would have wondered. But that he had dared to obtrude himself into the Wheat Sheaf — a man like him ! It meant something ! They had their thoughts about it. Gregory Markpence, meanwhile, had also his thoughts. He did not like his reception at the Wheat Sheaf. He growled in his sleep while dreaming about it; and when he awoke he began to form schemes of revenge for what he regarded as bad treat ment. His wife and his daughter Margery had much to bear — much more than usual — with his temper that day; and the pas sengers over the bridge, whether coming from Willowacre or going to it, felt the edge of his moroseness. He formed no com plete or connected plan of vengeance that day ; but he fixed on a first step — that he would renew his visit to the Wheat Sheaf parlour that very night.

His second appearance there was by no means expected. The little company had dismissed him from their thoughts after an hour's review of the manner of his visit. They still agreed that it was strange — very strange — and meant something; of that they had no doubt; but what it did mean they could not tell. " And so let it go," said Mr. Alderman Ralph ; " let me tell you, however, neighbours, that this unmannerly and mysterious visit from one whom we did not invite, and should never have thought of inviting, reminds me that there is one gentleman lately settled among us whom we ought to invite, and whom we ought before now to have thought of inviting, to join us iu these happy meetings." " Unless I am out in my conjecture," observed the town-clerk, " the worthy alderman has a gentleman in his eye whose polite ness would be an ornament to the Wheat Sheaf parlour."

" And whose extensive connection with our shipping interest entitles him to our respect," added the ancient harbour-master. " Not omitting his handsome and most proper patronage of the trading interest of the borough;" quickly added the little apothecary. " A gentleman who pays his bills weekly, whether great or small, with the utmost punctuality," cried the miller and butcher in a breath. " And whose house knows no stint of hospitality, to either gentle or simple," said the host. " But whose domestic establishment is, nevertheless, com pletely under compass and square," added the master-builder. " I see I am understood," resumed the alderman; "I need scarcely say that I mean Mr. Gilbert Pevensey." Jingling of glasses, drumming upon the table, and " Hear, hear, hear," from all the company, continued full one minute, and might have continued two — but Gregory Markpence again appeared ; and all was profound silence !

There stood the toll-keeper, staff in hand, great-coated, slouch hatted, and looking as unpleasant and defiant as before. And there sat the company as silent as when he first appeared; and not only so, but resolving to keep silence. " A pint of ale!" re-demanded Gregory; and Jerry Dimple quickly filled it, but received Gregory's pence without uttering one word. There happened to be no vacant chair in the room when the toll-keeper entered this time, and no one stood up to accommodate him. Mr. Pratewell was moving to do so, but Alderman Trueman stayed him by a slight pressure on the knee. Gregory observed this, and his anger rose till he almost thought it would choke him. He glared round; but nobody's eyes met his : the company looked on the floor. Gregory coughed, but nobody else did. He would have given a shilling, he vowed in his heart, if any one would have just given him one word — straight or crooked — so that he might have hung a quarrel upon it.