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in 1874.
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PHINEAS REDUX
by
ANTHONY TROLLOPE
CONTENTS
VOLUME I
I. TEMPTATION
II. HARRINGTON HALL
III. GERARD MAULE
IV. TANKERVILLE
V. MR. DAUBENY'S GREAT MOVE
VI. PHINEAS AND HIS OLD FRIENDS
VII. COMING HOME FROM HUNTING
VIII. THE ADDRESS
IX. THE DEBATE
X. THE DESERTED HUSBAND
XI. THE TRUANT WIFE
XII. KÖNIGSTEIN
XIII. "I HAVE GOT THE SEAT"
XIV. TRUMPETON WOOD
XV. "HOW WELL YOU KNEW!"
XVI. COPPERHOUSE CROSS AND BROUGHTON SPINNIES
XVII. MADAME GOESLER'S STORY
XVIII. SPOONER OF SPOON HALL
XIX. SOMETHING OUT OF THE WAY
XX. PHINEAS AGAIN IN LONDON
XXI. MR. MAULE, SENIOR
XXII. "PURITY OF MORALS, FINN"
XXIII. MACPHERSON'S HOTEL
XXIV. MADAME GOESLER IS SENT FOR
XXV. "I WOULD DO IT NOW"
XXVI. THE DUKE'S WILL
XXVII. AN EDITOR'S WRATH
XXVIII. THE FIRST THUNDERBOLT
XXIX. THE SPOONER CORRESPONDENCE
XXX. REGRETS
XXXI. THE DUKE AND DUCHESS IN TOWN
XXXII. THE WORLD BECOMES COLD
XXXIII. THE TWO GLADIATORS
XXXIV. THE UNIVERSE
XXXV. POLITICAL VENOM
XXXVI. SEVENTY-TWO
XXXVII. THE CONSPIRACY
XXXVIII. ONCE AGAIN IN PORTMAN SQUARE
XXXIX. CAGLIOSTRO
XL. THE PRIME MINISTER IS HARD PRESSED
VOLUME II
XLI. "I HOPE I'M NOT DISTRUSTED"
XLII. BOULOGNE
XLIII. THE SECOND THUNDERBOLT
XLIV. THE BROWBOROUGH TRIAL
XLV. SOME PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF MR. EMILIUS
XLVI. THE QUARREL
XLVII. WHAT CAME OF THE QUARREL
XLVIII. MR. MAULE'S ATTEMPT
XLIX. SHOWING WHAT MRS. BUNCE SAID TO THE POLICEMAN
L. WHAT THE LORDS AND COMMONS SAID ABOUT THE MURDER
LI. "YOU THINK IT SHAMEFUL"
LII. MR. KENNEDY'S WILL
LIII. NONE BUT THE BRAVE DESERVE THE FAIR
LIV. THE DUCHESS TAKES COUNSEL
LV. PHINEAS IN PRISON
LVI. THE MEAGER FAMILY
LVII. THE BEGINNING OF THE SEARCH FOR THE KEY AND THE COAT
LVIII. THE TWO DUKES
LIX. MRS. BONTEEN
LX. TWO DAYS BEFORE THE TRIAL
LXI. THE BEGINNING OF THE TRIAL
LXII. LORD FAWN'S EVIDENCE
LXIII. MR. CHAFFANBRASS FOR THE DEFENCE
LXIV. CONFUSION IN THE COURT
LXV. "I HATE HER!"
LXVI. THE FOREIGN BLUDGEON
LXVII. THE VERDICT
LXVIII. PHINEAS AFTER THE TRIAL
LXIX. THE DUKE'S FIRST COUSIN
LXX. "I WILL NOT GO TO LOUGHLINTER"
LXXI. PHINEAS FINN IS RE-ELECTED
LXXII. THE END OF THE STORY OF MR. EMILIUS AND LADY EUSTACE
LXXIII. PHINEAS FINN RETURNS TO HIS DUTIES
LXXIV. AT MATCHING
LXXV. THE TRUMPETON FEUD IS SETTLED
LXXVI. MADAME GOESLER'S LEGACY
LXXVII. PHINEAS FINN'S SUCCESS
LXXVIII. THE LAST VISIT TO SAULSBY
LXXIX. AT LAST--AT LAST
LXXX. CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
LADY CHILTERN AND HER BABY. CHAPTER II.
"WELL, THEN, I WON'T MENTION HER NAME AGAIN." CHAPTER VI.
ADELAIDE PALLISER. CHAPTER VII.
THE LAIRD OF LOUGHLINTER. CHAPTER X.
"I SUPPOSE I SHALL SHAKE IT OFF." CHAPTER XV.
"YOU KNOW IT'S THE KEEPERS DO IT ALL." CHAPTER XVIII.
HE SAT DOWN FOR A MOMENT TO THINK OF IT ALL. CHAPTER XIX.
"THEN, SIR, YOU SHALL ABIDE MY WRATH." CHAPTER XXIII.
"I WOULD; I WOULD." CHAPTER XXV.
"LADY GLEN WILL TELL YOU THAT I CAN BE CHAPTER XXX.
VERY OBSTINATE WHEN I PLEASE."
"I SHOULD HAVE HAD SOME ENJOYMENT, CHAPTER XXXI.
I SUPPOSE."
"I MUST HAVE ONE WORD WITH YOU." CHAPTER XXXVIII.
"THEY SEEM TO THINK THAT MR. BONTEEN MUST CHAPTER XLV.
BE PRIME MINISTER."
"WHAT IS THE USE OF STICKING TO A MAN WHO CHAPTER XLVIII.
DOES NOT WANT YOU?"
"HE HAS BEEN MURDERED," SAID MR. LOW. CHAPTER XLIX.
"HE MAY SOFTEN HER HEART." CHAPTER LII.
OF COURSE IT WAS LADY LAURA. CHAPTER LV.
LIZZIE EUSTACE. CHAPTER LIX.
"VIOLET, THEY WILL MURDER HIM." CHAPTER LXI.
THE BOY WHO FOUND THE BLUDGEON. CHAPTER LXVI.
AND SHE SAT WEEPING ALONE IN HER CHAPTER LXVIII.
FATHER'S HOUSE.
LADY LAURA AT THE GLASS. CHAPTER LXX.
"YES, THERE SHE IS." CHAPTER LXXIV.
THEN SHE SUDDENLY TURNED UPON HIM, CHAPTER LXXIX.
THROWING HER ARMS ROUND HIS NECK.
VOLUME I.
CHAPTER I.
TEMPTATION.
The circumstances of the general election of 18-- will be well
remembered by all those who take an interest in the political
matters of the country. There had been a coming in and a going out
of Ministers previous to that,--somewhat rapid, very exciting, and,
upon the whole, useful as showing the real feeling of the country
upon sundry questions of public interest. Mr. Gresham had been Prime
Minister of England, as representative of the Liberal party in
politics. There had come to be a split among those who should have
been his followers on the terribly vexed question of the Ballot. Then
Mr. Daubeny for twelve months had sat upon the throne distributing
the good things of the Crown amidst Conservative birdlings, with
beaks wide open and craving maws, who certainly for some years
previous had not received their share of State honours or State
emoluments. And Mr. Daubeny was still so sitting, to the infinite
dismay of the Liberals, every man of whom felt that his party
was entitled by numerical strength to keep the management of the
Government within its own hands.
Let a man be of what side he may in politics,--unless he be
much more of a partisan than a patriot,--he will think it well
that there should be some equity of division in the bestowal
of crumbs of comfort. Can even any old Whig wish that every Lord
Lieutenant of a county should be an old Whig? Can it be good for the
administration of the law that none but Liberal lawyers should become
Attorney-Generals, and from thence Chief Justices or Lords of Appeal?
Should no Conservative Peer ever represent the majesty of England
in India, in Canada, or at St. Petersburgh? So arguing, moderate
Liberals had been glad to give Mr. Daubeny and his merry men a
chance. Mr. Daubeny and his merry men had not neglected the chance
given them. Fortune favoured them, and they made their hay while the
sun shone with an energy that had never been surpassed, improving
upon Fortune, till their natural enemies waxed impatient. There had
been as yet but one year of it, and the natural enemies, who had at
first expressed themselves as glad that the turn had come, might
have endured the period of spoliation with more equanimity. For to
them, the Liberals, this cutting up of the Whitehall cake by the
Conservatives was spoliation when the privilege of cutting was found
to have so much exceeded what had been expected. Were not they, the
Liberals, the real representatives of the people, and, therefore, did
not the cake in truth appertain to them? Had not they given up the
cake for a while, partly, indeed, through idleness and mismanagement,
and quarrelling among themselves; but mainly with a feeling that
a moderate slicing on the other side would, upon the whole, be
advantageous? But when the cake came to be mauled like that--oh,
heavens! So the men who had quarrelled agreed to quarrel no more,
and it was decided that there should be an end of mismanagement and
idleness, and that this horrid sight of the weak pretending to be
strong, or the weak receiving the reward of strength, should be
brought to an end. Then came a great fight, in the last agonies of
which the cake was sliced manfully. All the world knew how the fight
would go; but in the meantime lord-lieutenancies were arranged; very
ancient judges retired upon pensions; vice-royal Governors were sent
out in the last gasp of the failing battle; great places were filled
by tens, and little places by twenties; private secretaries were
established here and there; and the hay was still made even after the
sun had gone down.
In consequence of all this the circumstances of the election of 18--
were peculiar. Mr. Daubeny had dissolved the House, not probably
with any idea that he could thus retrieve his fortunes, but feeling
that in doing so he was occupying the last normal position of a
properly-fought Constitutional battle. His enemies were resolved,
more firmly than they were resolved before, to knock him altogether
on the head at the general election which he had himself called
into existence. He had been disgracefully out-voted in the House of
Commons on various subjects. On the last occasion he had gone into
his lobby with a minority of 37, upon a motion brought forward by Mr.
Palliser, the late Liberal Chancellor of the Exchequer, respecting
decimal coinage. No politician, not even Mr. Palliser himself, had
expected that he would carry his Bill in the present session. It
was brought forward as a trial of strength; and for such a purpose
decimal coinage was as good a subject as any other. It was Mr.
Palliser's hobby, and he was gratified at having this further
opportunity of ventilating it. When in power, he had not succeeded
in carrying his measure, awed, and at last absolutely beaten, by the
infinite difficulty encountered in arranging its details. But his
mind was still set upon it, and it was allowed by the whole party
to be as good as anything else for the purpose then required. The
Conservative Government was beaten for the third or fourth time, and
Mr. Daubeny dissolved the House.
The whole world said that he might as well have resigned at once. It
was already the end of July, and there must be an autumn Session with
the new members. It was known to be impossible that he should find
himself supported by a majority after a fresh election. He had been
treated with manifest forbearance; the cake had been left in his
hands for twelve months; the House was barely two years old; he
had no "cry" with which to meet the country; the dissolution was
factious, dishonest, and unconstitutional. So said all the Liberals,
and it was deduced also that the Conservatives were in their hearts
as angry as were their opponents. What was to be gained but the poor
interval of three months? There were clever men who suggested that
Mr. Daubeny had a scheme in his head--some sharp trick of political
conjuring, some "hocus-pocus presto" sleight of hand, by which he
might be able to retain power, let the elections go as they would.
But, if so, he certainly did not make his scheme known to his own
party.
He had no cry with which to meet the country, nor, indeed, had
the leaders of the Opposition. Retrenchment, army reform, navy
excellence, Mr. Palliser's decimal coinage, and general good
government gave to all the old-Whig moderate Liberals plenty of
matter for speeches to their future constituents. Those who were more
advanced could promise the Ballot, and suggest the disestablishment
of the Church. But the Government of the day was to be turned out
on the score of general incompetence. They were to be made to go,
because they could not command majorities. But there ought to have
been no dissolution, and Mr. Daubeny was regarded by his opponents,
and indeed by very many of his followers also, with an enmity that
was almost ferocious. A seat in Parliament, if it be for five or six
years, is a blessing; but the blessing becomes very questionable if
it have to be sought afresh every other Session.
One thing was manifest to thoughtful, working, eager political
Liberals. They must have not only a majority in the next Parliament,
but a majority of good men--of men good and true. There must be no
more mismanagement; no more quarrelling; no more idleness. Was it to
be borne that an unprincipled so-called Conservative Prime Minister
should go on slicing the cake after such a fashion as that lately
adopted? Old bishops had even talked of resigning, and Knights of the
Garter had seemed to die on purpose. So there was a great stir at the
Liberal political clubs, and every good and true man was summoned to
the battle.
Now no Liberal soldier, as a young soldier, had been known to be more
good and true than Mr. Finn, the Irishman, who had held office two
years ago to the satisfaction of all his friends, and who had retired
from office because he had found himself compelled to support a
measure which had since been carried by those very men from whom he
had been obliged on this account to divide himself. It had always
been felt by his old friends that he had been, if not ill-used, at
least very unfortunate. He had been twelve months in advance of his
party, and had consequently been driven out into the cold. So when
the names of good men and true were mustered, and weighed, and
discussed, and scrutinised by some active members of the Liberal
party in a certain very private room not far removed from our
great seat of parliamentary warfare; and when the capabilities,
and expediencies, and possibilities were tossed to and fro among
these active members, it came to pass that the name of Mr. Finn
was mentioned more than once. Mr. Phineas Finn was the gentleman's
name--which statement may be necessary to explain the term of
endearment which was occasionally used in speaking of him.
"He has got some permanent place," said Mr. Ratler, who was living
on the well-founded hope of being a Treasury Secretary under the new
dispensation; "and of course he won't leave it."
It must be acknowledged that Mr. Ratler, than whom no judge in such
matters possessed more experience, had always been afraid of Phineas
Finn.
"He'll lave it fast enough, if you'll make it worth his while," said
the Honourable Laurence Fitzgibbon, who also had his expectations.
"But he married when he went away, and he can't afford it," said Mr.
Bonteen, another keen expectant.
"Devil a bit," said the Honourable Laurence; "or, anyways, the poor
thing died of her first baby before it was born. Phinny hasn't an
impidiment, no more than I have."
"He's the best Irishman we ever got hold of," said Barrington
Erle--"present company always excepted, Laurence."
"Bedad, you needn't except me, Barrington. I know what a man's made
of, and what a man can do. And I know what he can't do. I'm not bad
at the outside skirmishing. I'm worth me salt. I say that with a just
reliance on me own powers. But Phinny is a different sort of man.
Phinny can stick to a desk from twelve to seven, and wish to come
back again after dinner. He's had money left him, too, and 'd like to
spend some of it on an English borough."
"You never can quite trust him," said Bonteen. Now Mr. Bonteen had
never loved Mr. Finn.
"At any rate we'll try him again," said Barrington Erle, making a
little note to that effect. And they did try him again.
Phineas Finn, when last seen by the public, was departing from
parliamentary life in London to the enjoyment of a modest place
under Government in his own country, with something of a shattered
ambition. After various turmoils he had achieved a competency, and
had married the girl of his heart. But now his wife was dead, and he
was again alone in the world. One of his friends had declared that
money had been left to him. That was true, but the money had not been
much. Phineas Finn had lost his father as well as his wife, and had
inherited about four thousand pounds. He was not at this time much
over thirty; and it must be acknowledged in regard to him that, since
the day on which he had accepted place and retired from London, his
very soul had sighed for the lost glories of Westminster and Downing
Street.
There are certain modes of life which, if once adopted, make
contentment in any other circumstances almost an impossibility. In
old age a man may retire without repining, though it is often beyond
the power even of the old man to do so; but in youth, with all the
faculties still perfect, with the body still strong, with the hopes
still buoyant, such a change as that which had been made by Phineas
Finn was more than he, or than most men, could bear with equanimity.
He had revelled in the gas-light, and could not lie quiet on a sunny
bank. To the palate accustomed to high cookery, bread and milk is
almost painfully insipid. When Phineas Finn found himself discharging
in Dublin the routine duties of his office,--as to which there was
no public comment, no feeling that such duties were done in the face
of the country,--he became sick at heart and discontented. Like
the warhorse out at grass he remembered the sound of the battle
and the noise of trumpets. After five years spent in the heat and
full excitement of London society, life in Ireland was tame to
him, and cold, and dull. He did not analyse the difference between
metropolitan and quasi-metropolitan manners; but he found that men
and women in Dublin were different from those to whom he had been
accustomed in London. He had lived among lords, and the sons and
daughters of lords; and though the official secretaries and assistant
commissioners among whom his lot now threw him were for the most part
clever fellows, fond of society, and perhaps more than his equals in
the kind of conversation which he found to be prevalent, still they
were not the same as the men he had left behind him,--men alive with
the excitement of parliamentary life in London. When in London he had
often told himself that he was sick of it, and that he would better
love some country quiet life. Now Dublin was his Tibur, and the
fickle one found that he could not be happy unless he were back again
at Rome. When, therefore, he received the following letter from
his friend, Barrington Erle, he neighed like the old warhorse, and
already found himself shouting "Ha, ha," among the trumpets.
---- Street, 9th July, 18--.
MY DEAR FINN,
Although you are not now immediately concerned in such
trifling matters you have no doubt heard that we are
all to be sent back at once to our constituents, and
that there will be a general election about the end of
September. We are sure that we shall have such a majority
as we never had before; but we are determined to make it
as strong as possible, and to get in all the good men that
are to be had. Have you a mind to try again? After all,
there is nothing like it.
Perhaps you may have some Irish seat in your eye for
which you would be safe. To tell the truth we know very
little of the Irish seats--not so much as, I think,
we ought to do. But if you are not so lucky I would
suggest Tankerville in Durham. Of course there would
be a contest, and a little money will be wanted; but the
money would not be much. Browborough has sat for the place
now for three Parliaments, and seems to think it all his
own. I am told that nothing could be easier than to turn
him out. You will remember the man--a great, hulking,
heavy, speechless fellow, who always used to sit just over
Lord Macaw's shoulder. I have made inquiry, and I am told
that he must walk if anybody would go down who could talk
to the colliers every night for a week or so. It would
just be the work for you. Of course, you should have all
the assistance we could give you, and Molescroft would put
you into the hands of an agent who wouldn't spend money
for you. £500 would do it all.
I am very sorry to hear of your great loss, as also was
Lady Laura, who, as you are aware, is still abroad with
her father. We have all thought that the loneliness of
your present life might perhaps make you willing to come
back among us. I write instead of Ratler, because I
am helping him in the Northern Counties. But you will
understand all about that.
Yours, ever faithfully,
BARRINGTON ERLE.
Of course Tankerville has been dirty. Browborough has
spent a fortune there. But I do not think that that need
dishearten you. You will go there with clean hands. It
must be understood that there shall not be as much as a
glass of beer. I am told that the fellows won't vote for
Browborough unless he spends money, and I fancy he will be
afraid to do it heavily after all that has come and gone.
If he does you'll have him out on a petition. Let us have
an answer as soon as possible.
He at once resolved that he would go over and see; but, before he
replied to Erle's letter, he walked half-a-dozen times the length
of the pier at Kingston meditating on his answer. He had no one
belonging to him. He had been deprived of his young bride, and left
desolate. He could ruin no one but himself. Where could there be a
man in all the world who had a more perfect right to play a trick
with his own prospects? If he threw up his place and spent all his
money, who could blame him? Nevertheless, he did tell himself that,
when he should have thrown up his place and spent all his money,
there would remain to him his own self to be disposed of in a manner
that might be very awkward to him. A man owes it to his country, to
his friends, even to his acquaintance, that he shall not be known to
be going about wanting a dinner, with never a coin in his pocket. It
is very well for a man to boast that he is lord of himself, and that
having no ties he may do as he pleases with that possession. But it
is a possession of which, unfortunately, he cannot rid himself when
he finds that there is nothing advantageous to be done with it.
Doubtless there is a way of riddance. There is the bare bodkin. Or a
man may fall overboard between Holyhead and Kingston in the dark, and
may do it in such a cunning fashion that his friends shall think that
it was an accident. But against these modes of riddance there is a
canon set, which some men still fear to disobey.
The thing that he was asked to do was perilous. Standing in his
present niche of vantage he was at least safe. And added to his
safety there were material comforts. He had more than enough for his
wants. His work was light; he lived among men and women with whom he
was popular. The very fact of his past parliamentary life had caused
him to be regarded as a man of some note among the notables of the
Irish capital. Lord Lieutenants were gracious to him, and the wives
of judges smiled upon him at their tables. He was encouraged to talk
of those wars of the gods at which he had been present, and was so
treated as to make him feel that he was somebody in the world of
Dublin. Now he was invited to give all this up; and for what?
He answered that question to himself with enthusiastic eloquence.
The reward offered to him was the thing which in all the world he
liked best. It was suggested to him that he should again have within
his reach that parliamentary renown which had once been the very
breath of his nostrils. We all know those arguments and quotations,
antagonistic to prudence, with which a man fortifies himself in
rashness. "None but the brave deserve the fair." "Where there's a
will there's a way." "Nothing venture nothing have." "The sword is
to him who can use it." "Fortune favours the bold." But on the other
side there is just as much to be said. "A bird in the hand is worth
two in the bush." "Look before you leap." "Thrust not out your hand
further than you can draw it back again." All which maxims of life
Phineas Finn revolved within his own heart, if not carefully, at
least frequently, as he walked up and down the long pier of Kingston
Harbour.
But what matter such revolvings? A man placed as was our Phineas
always does that which most pleases him at the moment, being but poor
at argument if he cannot carry the weight to that side which best
satisfies his own feelings. Had not his success been very great when
he before made the attempt? Was he not well aware at every moment
of his life that, after having so thoroughly learned his lesson in
London, he was throwing away his hours amidst his present pursuits
in Dublin? Did he not owe himself to his country? And then, again,
what might not London do for him? Men who had begun as he begun had
lived to rule over Cabinets, and to sway the Empire. He had been
happy for a short twelvemonth with his young bride,--for a short
twelvemonth,--and then she had been taken from him. Had she been
spared to him he would never have longed for more than Fate had given
him. He would never have sighed again for the glories of Westminster
had his Mary not gone from him. Now he was alone in the world; and,
though he could look forward to possible and not improbable events
which would make that future disposition of himself a most difficult
question for him, still he would dare to try.
As the first result of Erle's letter Phineas was over in London early
in August. If he went on with this matter, he must, of course, resign
the office for holding which he was now paid a thousand a year. He
could retain that as long as he chose to earn the money, but the
earning of it would not be compatible with a seat in Parliament. He
had a few thousand pounds with which he could pay for the contest at
Tankerville, for the consequent petition which had been so generously
suggested to him, and maintain himself in London for a session or two
should he be so fortunate as to carry his election. Then he would be
penniless, with the world before him as a closed oyster to be again
opened, and he knew,--no one better,--that this oyster becomes harder
and harder in the opening as the man who has to open it becomes
older. It is an oyster that will close to again with a snap, after
you have got your knife well into it, if you withdraw your point but
for a moment. He had had a rough tussle with the oyster already, and
had reached the fish within the shell. Nevertheless, the oyster which
he had got was not the oyster which he wanted. So he told himself
now, and here had come to him the chance of trying again.
Early in August he went over to England, saw Mr. Molescroft, and
made his first visit to Tankerville. He did not like the look of
Tankerville; but nevertheless he resigned his place before the
month was over. That was the one great step, or rather the leap in
the dark,--and that he took. Things had been so arranged that the
election at Tankerville was to take place on the 20th of October.
When the dissolution had been notified to all the world by Mr.
Daubeny an earlier day was suggested; but Mr. Daubeny saw reasons for
postponing it for a fortnight. Mr. Daubeny's enemies were again very
ferocious. It was all a trick. Mr. Daubeny had no right to continue
Prime Minister a day after the decided expression of opinion as to
unfitness which had been pronounced by the House of Commons. Men
were waxing very wrath. Nevertheless, so much power remained in Mr.
Daubeny's hand, and the election was delayed. That for Tankerville
would not be held till the 20th of October. The whole House could not
be chosen till the end of the month,--hardly by that time--and yet
there was to be an autumn Session. The Ratlers and Bonteens were at
any rate clear about the autumn Session. It was absolutely impossible
that Mr. Daubeny should be allowed to remain in power over Christmas,
and up to February.
Mr. Molescroft, whom Phineas saw in London, was not a comfortable
counsellor. "So you are going down to Tankerville?" he said.
"They seem to think I might as well try."
"Quite right;--quite right. Somebody ought to try it, no doubt. It
would be a disgrace to the whole party if Browborough were allowed
to walk over. There isn't a borough in England more sure to return a
Liberal than Tankerville if left to itself. And yet that lump of a
legislator has sat there as a Tory for the last dozen years by dint
of money and brass."
"You think we can unseat him?"
"I don't say that. He hasn't come to the end of his money, and as to
his brass that is positively without end."
"But surely he'll have some fear of consequences after what has been
done?"
"None in the least. What has been done? Can you name a single
Parliamentary aspirant who has been made to suffer?"
"They have suffered in character," said Phineas. "I should not like
to have the things said of me that have been said of them."
"I don't know a man of them who stands in a worse position among his
own friends than he occupied before. And men of that sort don't want
a good position among their enemies. They know they're safe. When the
seat is in dispute everybody is savage enough; but when it is merely
a question of punishing a man, what is the use of being savage? Who
knows whose turn it may be next?"
"He'll play the old game, then?"
"Of course he'll play the old game," said Mr. Molescroft. "He doesn't
know any other game. All the purists in England wouldn't teach him to
think that a poor man ought not to sell his vote, and that a rich man
oughtn't to buy it. You mean to go in for purity?"
"Certainly I do."
"Browborough will think just as badly of you as you will of him.
He'll hate you because he'll think you are trying to rob him of what
he has honestly bought; but he'll hate you quite as much because
you try to rob the borough. He'd tell you if you asked him that he
doesn't want his seat for nothing, any more than he wants his house
or his carriage-horses for nothing. To him you'll be a mean, low
interloper. But you won't care about that."
"Not in the least, if I can get the seat."
"But I'm afraid you won't. He will be elected. You'll petition. He'll
lose his seat. There will be a commission. And then the borough will
be disfranchised. It's a fine career, but expensive; and then there
is no reward beyond the self-satisfaction arising from a good action.
However, Ruddles will do the best he can for you, and it certainly
is possible that you may creep through." This was very disheartening,
but Barrington Erle assured our hero that such was Mr. Molescroft's
usual way with candidates, and that it really meant little or
nothing. At any rate, Phineas Finn was pledged to stand.