Dr Thorne - Anthony Trollope [119]
‘Oh, yes, the brandy! I was forgetting that and the little speech that is coming out of my mouth – a deal shorter speech, and a better one than what I am making now. Here, in the right hand you see is a brandy bottle. Well, boys, I’m not a bit ashamed of that; as long as a man does his work – and the spade shows that – it’s only fair he should have something to comfort him. I’m always able to work, and few men work much harder. I’m always able to work, and no man has a right to expect more of me. I never expect more than that from those who work for me.’
‘No more you don’t, Roger: a little drop’s very good, ain’t it, Roger? Keeps the cold from the stomach, eh, Roger?’
‘Then as to this speech, “Come, Jack, let’s have a drop of some’at short.” Why, that’s a good speech, too. When I do drink I like to share with a friend; and I don’t care how humble that friend is.’
‘Hurrah! more power. That’s true, too, Roger; may you never be without a drop to wet your whistle.’
‘They say I’m the last new baronet. Well, I ain’t ashamed of that; not a bit. When will Mr Moffat get himself made a baronet? No man can truly say I’m too proud of it. I have never stuck myself up; no, nor stuck my wife up either: but I don’t see much to be ashamed of because the bigwigs chose to make a baronet of me.’
‘Nor, no more thee h’ant, Roger. We’d all be barrownites if so be we knew the way.’
‘But now, having polished off this bit of a picture, let me ask you who Mr Moffat is? There are pictures enough about him, too; though Heaven knows where they all come from. I think Sir Edwin Landseer4 must have done this one of the goose; it is so deadly natural. Look at it; there he is. Upon my word, whoever did that ought to make his fortune at some of these exhibitions. Here he is again with a big pair of scissors. He calls himself “England’s honour”; what the deuce England’s honour has to do with tailoring, I can’t tell you: perhaps Mr Moffat can. But mind you, my friends, I don’t say anything against tailoring: some of you are tailors, I dare say.’
‘Yes, we be,’ said a little squeaking voice from out of the crowd.
‘And a good trade it is. When I first knew Barchester there were tailors here who could lick any stone-mason in the trade; I say nothing against tailors. But it isn’t enough for a man to be a tailor unless he’s something else along with it. You’re not so fond of tailors that you’ll send one up to Parliament merely because he is a tailor.’
‘We won’t have no tailors. No; nor yet no cabbaging. Take a go of brandy, Roger; you’re blown.’
‘No, I’m not blown yet. I’ve a deal more to say about Mr Moffat before I shall be blown. What has he done to entitle him to come here before you and ask you to send him to Parliament? Why; he isn’t even a tailor. I wish he were. There’s always some good in a fellow who knows how to earn his own bread. But he isn’t a tailor; he can’t even put a stitch in towards mending England’s honour. His father was a tailor; not a Barchester tailor, mind you, so as to give him any claim on your affections; but a London tailor. Now the question is, do you want to send the son of a London tailor up to Parliament to represent you?’
‘No, we don’t; nor yet we won’t neither.’
‘I rather think not. You’ve had him once, and what has he done for you? Has he said much for you in the House of Commons? Why, he’s so dumb a dog that he can’t bark even for a bone. I’m told it’s quite painful to hear him fumbling and mumbling and trying to get up a speech there over at the White Horse. He doesn’t belong to the city; he hasn’t done anything for the city; and he hasn’t the power to do anything for the city. Then, why on earth does he come here? I’ll tell you. The Earl de Courcy brings him. He’s going to marry the Earl de Courcy’s niece; for they say he’s very rich – this tailor’s son – only they do say also that he doesn’t much like to spend his money. He’s going to marry Lord de Courcy’s niece, and Lord de Courcy wishes that his nephew should be in Parliament. There, that’s the claim which Mr Moffat has here on the people of Barchester. He