I am no
monopolist. I am a liberal man, but I cannot forget that I stand on
the brink of a precipice; and if were to have Free Trade, give me
reciprocity. And what was Sir Robert Peel's answer to me? "Mr. Jawkins,"
he said--'
Here Jawkins's eye suddenly turning on your humble servant, he stopped
his sentence, with a guilty look--his stale old stupid sentence, which
every one of us at the Club has heard over and over again.
Jawkins is a most pertinacious Club Snob. Every day he is at
that fireplace, holding that STANDARD, of which he reads up the
leading-article, and pours it out ORE ROTUNDO, with the most astonishing
composure, in the face of his neighbour, who has just read every word
of it in the paper. Jawkins has money, as you may see by the tie of his
neckcloth. He passes the morning swaggering about the City, in bankers'
and brokers parlours, and says:--'I spoke with Peel yesterday, and his
intentions are so and so. Graham and I were talking over the matter,
and I pledge you my word of honour, his opinion coincides with mine; and
that What-d'ye-call-um is the only measure Government will venture on
trying.' By evening-paper time he is at the Club: 'I can tell you the
opinion of the City, my lord,' says he, 'and the way in which Jones Loyd
looks at it is briefly this: Rothschilds told me so themselves. In
Mark Lane, people's minds are QUITE made up.
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