Cor. Your good voice, Sir--what say you? 2nd Cit. You shall have it,
worthy Sir.--Coriolanus.
The borough of Buyemall had long been in undisputed possession of the
lords of Glenmorris, till a rich banker, of the name of Lufton, had
bought a large estate in the immediate neighbourhood of Glenmorris
Castle. This event, which was the precursor of a mighty revolution in
the borough of Buyemall, took place in the first year of my uncle’s
accession to his property. A few months afterwards, a vacancy in the
borough occurring, my uncle procured the nomination of one of his own
political party. To the great astonishment of Lord Glenmorris, and the
great gratification of the burghers of Buyemall, Mr. Lufton offered
himself in opposition to the Glenmorris candidate. In this age
of enlightenment, innovation has no respect for the most sacred
institutions of antiquity. The burghers, for the only time since their
creation as a body, were cast first into doubt, and secondly into
rebellion. The Lufton faction, horresco referens, were triumphant, and
the rival candidate was returned. From that hour the Borough of Buyemall
was open to all the world.
My uncle, who was a good easy man, and had some strange notions of free
representation, and liberty of election, professed to care very little
for this event. He contented himself henceforward, with exerting his
interest for one of the members, and left the other seat entirely at
the disposal of the line of Lufton, which, from the time of the first
competition, continued peaceably to monopolize it.
During the last two years, my uncle’s candidate, the late Mr.
Toolington, had been gradually dying of a dropsy, and the Luftons had
been so particularly attentive to the honest burghers, that it was
shrewdly suspected a bold push was to be made for the other seat. During
the last month these doubts were changed into certainty. Mr. Augustus
Leopold Lufton, eldest son to Benjamin Lufton, Esq., had publicly
declared his intention of starting at the decease of Mr. Toolington;
against this personage, behold myself armed and arrayed.
Such is, in brief, the history of the borough, up to the time in which I
was to take a prominent share in its interests and events.
On the second day after my arrival at the castle, the following
advertisement appeared at Buyemall:--
“To the Independent Electors of the Borough of Buyemall.
“Gentlemen,
“In presenting myself to your notice, I advance a claim not altogether
new and unfounded. My family have for centuries been residing amongst
you, and exercising that interest which reciprocal confidence, and good
offices may fairly create. Should it be my good fortune to be chosen
your representative, you may rely upon my utmost endeavours to deserve
that honour. One word upon the principles I espouse: they are those
which have found their advocates among the wisest and the best; they are
those which, hostile alike to the encroachments of the crown, and the
licentiousness of the people, would support the real interest of both.
Upon these grounds, gentlemen, I have the honour to solicit your votes;
and it is with the sincerest respect for your ancient and honourable
body, that I subscribe myself your very obedient servant,
“Henry Pelham.”
“Glenmorris Castle,”
Such was the first public signification of my intentions; it was drawn
up by Mr. Sharpon, our lawyer, and considered by our friends as a
masterpiece: for, as my mother sagely observed, it did not commit me
in a single instance--espoused no principle, and yet professed what all
parties would allow was the best.
At the first house where I called, the proprietor was a clergyman of
good family, who had married a lady from Baker-street: of course the
Reverend Combermere St. Quintin and his wife valued themselves upon
being “genteel.” I arrived at an unlucky moment; on entering the hall, a
dirty footboy was carrying a yellow-ware dish of potatoes into the back
room. Another Ganymede (a sort of footboy major), who opened the door,
and who was still settling himself into his coat, which he had slipped
on at my tintinnabulary summons, ushered me with a mouth full of bread
and cheese into this said back room. I gave up every thing as lost, when
I entered, and saw the lady helping her youngest child to some ineffable
trash, which I have since heard is called “blackberry pudding.” Another
of the tribe was bawling out, with a loud, hungry tone--“A tatoe, pa!”
The father himself was carving for the little group, with a napkin
stuffed into the top button-hole of his waistcoat, and the mother,
with a long bib, plentifully bespattered with congealing gravy, and the
nectarean liquor of the “blackberry pudding,” was sitting, with a sort
of presiding complacency, on a high stool, like Jupiter on Olympus,
enjoying rather than stilling the confused hubbub of the little domestic
deities, who eat, clattered, spattered, and squabbled around her.
Amidst all this din and confusion, the candidate for the borough of
Buyemall was ushered into the household privacy of the genteel Mr.
and Mrs. St. Quintin. Up started the lady at the sound of my name. The
Reverend Combermere St. Quintin seemed frozen into stone. The plate
between the youngest child and the blackberry-pudding, stood as still as
the sun in Ajalon. The morsel between the mouth of the elder boy and his
fork had a respite from mastication. The Seven Sleepers could not have
been spell-bound more suddenly and completely.
“Ah!” cried I, advancing eagerly, with an air of serious and yet abrupt
gladness; “how deuced lucky that I should find you all at luncheon. I
was up and had finished breakfast so early this morning, that I am half
famished. Only think how fortunate, Hardy (turning round to one of the
members of my committee, who accompanied me); I was just saying what
would I not give to find Mr. St. Quintin at luncheon. Will you allow me,
Madam, to make one of your party?”
Mrs. St. Quintin coloured, and faltered, and muttered out something
which I was fully resolved not to hear. I took a chair, looked round the
table, not too attentively, and said--“Cold veal; ah! ah! nothing I
like so much. May I trouble you, Mr. St. Quintin?--Hollo, my little man,
let’s see if you can’t give me a potatoe. There’s a brave fellow. How
old are you, my young hero?--to look at your mother, I should say two;
to look at you, six.”
“He is four next May,” said his mother, colouring, and this time not
painfully.
“Indeed!” said I, surveying him earnestly; and then, in a graver tone,
I turned to the Reverend Combermere with--“I think you have a branch of
your family still settled in France. I met Monsieur St. Quintin, the Due
de Poictiers, abroad.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Combermere, “yes, the name is still in Normandy, but I
was not aware of the title.”
“No!” said I, with surprise; “and yet (with another look at the boy), it
is astonishing how long family likenesses last. I was a great favourite
with all the Duc’s children. Do you know, I must trouble you for some
more veal, it is so very good, and I am so very hungry.”
“How long have you been abroad?” said Mrs. St. Quintin, who had slipped
off her bib, and smoothed her ringlets; for which purposes I had been
most adroitly looking in an opposite direction the last three minutes.
“About seven or eight months. The fact is, that the continent only does
for us English people to see--not to inhabit; and yet, there are some
advantages there, Mr. St. Quintin!--Among others, that of the due
respect ancient birth is held in. Here, you know, ‘money makes the man,’
as the vulgar proverb has it.”
“Yes,” said Mr. St. Quintin, with a sigh, “it is really dreadful to
see those upstarts rising around us, and throwing every thing that is
respectable and ancient into the back ground. Dangerous times these,
Mr. Pelham--dangerous times; nothing but innovation upon the most
sacred institutions. I am sure, Mr. Pelham, that your principles must be
decidedly against these new-fashioned doctrines, which lead to nothing
but anarchy and confusion--absolutely nothing.”
“I’m delighted to find you so much of my opinion!” said I. “I cannot
endure any thing that leads to anarchy and confusion.”
Here Mr. Combermere glanced at his wife--who rose, called to the
children, and, accompanied by them, gracefully withdrew.
“Now then,” said Mr. Combermere, drawing his chair nearer to
me,--“now, Mr. Pelham, we can discuss these matters. Women are no
politicians,”--and at this sage aphorism, the Rev. Combermere laughed a
low solemn laugh, which could have come from no other lips. After I had
joined in this grave merriment for a second or two--I hemmed thrice, and
with a countenance suited to the subject and the hosts, plunged at once
in medias res.
“Mr. St. Quintin,” said I, “you are already aware, I think, of my
intention of offering myself as a candidate for the borough of Buyemall.
I could not think of such a measure, without calling upon you, the very
first person, to solicit the honour of your vote.” Mr. Combermere looked
pleased, and prepared to reply. “You are the very first person I called
upon,” repeated I.
Mr. Combermere smiled. “Well, Mr. Pelham,” said he, “our families have
long been on the most intimate footing.”
“Ever since” cried I, “ever since Henry the Seventh’s time have the
houses of St. Quintin and Glenmorris been allied. Your ancestors, you
know, were settled in the county before our’s, and my mother assures me
that she has read in some old book or another, a long account of your
forefather’s kind reception of mine at the castle of St. Quintin. I
do trust, Sir, that we have done nothing to forfeit a support so long
afforded us.”
Mr. St. Quintin bowed in speechless gratification; at length he found
voice. “But your principles, Mr. Pelham?”
“Quite your’s, my dear Sir: quite against anarchy and confusion.”
“But the catholic question, Mr. Pelham?”
“Oh! the catholic question,” repeated I, “is a question of great
importance; it won’t be carried--no, Mr. St. Quintin, no, it won’t be
carried; how did you think, my dear Sir, that I could, in so great a
question, act against my conscience?”
I said this with warmth, and Mr. St. Quintin was either too convinced or
too timid to pursue so dangerous a topic any further. I blessed my stars
when he paused, and not giving him time to think of another piece of
debateable ground, continued, “Yes, Mr. St. Quintin, I called upon you
the very first person. Your rank in the county, your ancient birth, to
be sure, demanded it; but I only considered the long, long time the St.
Quintins and Pelhams had been connected.”
“Well,” said the Rev. Combermere, “well, Mr. Pelham, you shall have
my support; and I wish, from my very heart, all success to a young
gentleman of such excellent principles.”