In response to the cheering of the processionists - who, of course, had not heard the speech, but were cheering from force of habit - Sir Featherstone Blood stood up in the carriage and addressed the crowd, briefly outlining the great measures of Social Reform that his party proposed to enact to improve the condition of the working classes; and as they listened, the Wise Men grew delirious with enthusiasm.He referred to Land Taxes and Death Duties which would provide money to build battleships to protect the property of the rich, and provide Work for the poor.Another tax was to provide a nice, smooth road for the rich to ride upon in motor cars - and to provide Work for the poor.Another tax would be used for Development, which would also make Work for the poor.And so on.A great point was made of the fact that the rich were actually to be made to pay something towards the cost of their road themselves! But nothing was said about how they would get the money to do it.No reference was made to how the workers would be sweated and driven and starved to earn Dividends and Rent and Interest and Profits to put into the pockets of the rich before the latter would be able to pay for anything at all.
These are the things, Gentlemen, that we propose to do for you, and, at the rate of progress which we propose to adopt, I say without fear or contradiction, that within the next Five Hundred years we shall so reform social conditions in this country, that the working classes will be able to enjoy some of the benefits of civilization.
`The only question before you is: Are you willing to wait for Five Hundred Years?'
`Yes, sir,' shouted the Wise Men with enthusiasm at the glorious prospect.
`Yes, Sir: we'll wait a thousand years if you like, Sir!'
`I've been waiting all my life,' said one poor old veteran, who had assisted to `carry the "Old Flag" to victory' times out of number in the past and who for his share of the spoils of those victories was now in a condition of abject, miserable poverty, with the portals of the workhouse yawning open to receive him; `I've waited all my life, hoping and trusting for better conditions so a few more years won't make much difference to me.'
`Don't you trouble to 'urry yourself, Sir,' shouted another Solomon in the crowd.`We don't mind waiting.Take your own time, Sir.You know better than the likes of us 'ow long it ought to take.'
In conclusion, the great man warned them against being led away by the Socialists, those foolish, unreasonable, impractical people who wanted to see an immediate improvement in their condition; and he reminded them that Rome was not built in a day.
The Wise Men applauded lustily.It did not appear to occur to any of them that the rate at which the ancient Roman conducted their building operations had nothing whatever to do with the case.
Sir Featherstone Blood sat down amid a wild storm of cheering, and then the procession reformed, and, reinforced by the audience from the hall, they proceeded to march about the dreary streets, singing, to the tune of the `Men of Harlech':
`Vote for Sweater, Vote for Sweater!
Vote for Sweater, VOTE FOR SWEATER!
`He's the Man, who has a plan, To liberate and reinstate the workers!
`Men of Mugs'bro', show your mettle, Let them see that you're in fettle!
Once for all this question settle Sweater shall Prevail!'
The carriage containing Sir Featherstone, Adam Sweater, and Rushton and Didlum was in the middle of the procession.The banner and the torches were at the head, and the grandeur of the scene was heightened by four men who walked - two on each side of the carriage, burning green fire in frying pans.As they passed by the Slave Market, a poor, shabbily dressed wretch whose boots were so worn and rotten that they were almost falling off his feet, climbed up a lamp-post, and taking off his cap waved it in the air and shrieked out: `Three Cheers for Sir Featherstone Blood, our future Prime Minister!'
The Philanthropists cheered themselves hoarse and finally took the horses out of the traces and harnessed themselves to the carriage instead.
`'Ow much wages will Sir Featherstone get if 'e is made Prime Minister?' asked Harlow of another Philanthropist who was also pushing up behind the carriage.
`Five thousand a year,' replied the other, who by some strange chance happened to know.`That comes to a 'underd pounds a week.'
`Little enough, too, for a man like 'im,' said Harlow.
`You're right, mate,' said the other, with deep sympathy in his voice.
`Last time 'e 'eld office 'e was only in for five years, so 'e only made twenty-five thousand pounds out of it.Of course 'e got a pension as well - two thousand a year for life, I think it is; but after all, what's that - for a man like 'im?'
`Nothing,' replied Harlow, in a tone of commiseration, and Newman, who was also there, helping to drag the carriage, said that it ought to be at least double that amount.
However, they found some consolation in knowing that Sir Featherstone would not have to wait till he was seventy before he obtained his pension; he would get it directly he came out of office.
The following evening Barrington, Owen and a few others of the same way of thinking, who had subscribed enough money between them to purchase a lot of Socialist leaflets, employed themselves distributing them to the crowds at the Liberal and Tory meetings, and whilst they were doing this they frequently became involved in arguments with the supporters of the capitalist system.In their attempts to persuade others to refrain from voting for either of the candidates, they were opposed even by some who professed to believe in Socialism, who said that as there was no better Socialist candidate the thing to do was to vote for the better of the two.This was the view of Harlow and Easton, whom they met.Harlow had a green ribbon in his buttonhole, but Easton wore D'Encloseland's colours.