The Election for the Chelsea Districts.
March came, and still the Chancellor of the Exchequer held his
position. In the early days of March there was given in the House a
certain parliamentary explanation on the subject, which, however, did
not explain very much to any person. A statement was made which was
declared by the persons making it to be altogether satisfactory, but
nobody else seemed to find any satisfaction in it. The big wigs of
the Cabinet had made an arrangement which, from the language used
by them on this occasion, they must be supposed to have regarded as
hardly less permanent than the stars; but everybody else protested
that the Government was going to pieces; and Mr. Bott was heard
to declare in clubs and lobbies, and wherever he could get a
semi-public, political hearing, that this kind of thing wouldn't do.
Lord Brock must either blow hot or cold. If he chose to lean upon Mr.
Palliser, he might lean upon him, and Mr. Palliser would not be found
wanting. In such case no opposition could touch Lord Brock or the
Government. That was Mr. Bott's opinion. But if Lord Brock did not so
choose, why, in that case, he must expect that Mr. Palliser, and Mr.
Palliser's friends, would--. Mr. Bott did not say what they would do;
but he was supposed by those who understood the matter to hint at an
Opposition lobby, and adverse divisions, and to threaten Lord Brock
with the open enmity of Mr. Palliser,--and of Mr. Palliser's great
follower.
"This kind of thing won't do long, you know," repeated Mr. Bott for
the second or third time, as he stood upon the rug before the fire at
his club, with one or two of his young friends around him.
"I suppose not," said Calder Jones, the hunting Member of Parliament
whom we once met at Roebury. "Planty Pall won't stand it, I should
say."
"What can he do?" asked another, an unfledged Member who was not as
yet quite settled as to the leadership under which he intended to
work.
"What can he do?" said Mr. Bott, who on such an occasion as this could
be very great,--who, for a moment, could almost feel that he might
become a leader of a party for himself, and some day institute a Bott
Ministry. "What can he do? You will very shortly see what he can do.
He can make himself the master of the occasion. If Lord Brock doesn't
look about him, he'll find that Mr. Palliser will be in the Cabinet
without his help."
"You don't mean to say that the Queen will send for Planty Pall!"
said the young Member.
"I mean to say that the Queen will send for any one that the House
of Commons may direct her to call upon," said Mr. Bott, who conceived
himself to have gauged the very depths of our glorious Constitution.
"How hard it is to make any one understand that the Queen has really
nothing to do with it!"
"Come, Bott, draw it mild," said Calder Jones, whose loyalty was
shocked by the utter Manchesterialism of his political friend.
"Not if I know it," said Mr. Bott, with something of grandeur in his
tone and countenance. "I never drew it mild yet, and I shan't begin
now. All our political offences against civilization have come from
men drawing it mild, as you call it. Why is it that Englishmen can't
read and write as Americans do? Why can't they vote as they do even
in Imperial France? Why are they serfs, less free than those whose
chains were broken the other day in Russia? Why is the Spaniard more
happy, and the Italian more contented? Because men in power have been
drawing it mild!" And Mr. Bott made an action with his hand as though
he were drawing up beer from a patent tap.
"But you can't set aside Her Majesty like that, you know," said the
young Member, who had been presented, and whose mother's old-world
notions about the throne still clung to him.
"I should be very sorry," said Mr. Bott; "I'm no republican." With
all his constitutional love, Mr. Bott did not know what the word
republican meant. "I mean no disrespect to the throne. The throne in
its place is very well. But the power of governing this great nation
does not rest with the throne. It is contained within the four walls
of the House of Commons. That is the great truth which all young
Members should learn, and take to their hearts."
"And you think Planty Pall will become Prime Minister?" said Calder
Jones.
"I haven't said that; but there are more unlikely things. Among young
men I know no man more likely. But I certainly think this,--that if
Lord Brock doesn't take him into the Cabinet, Lord Brock won't long
remain there himself."
In the meantime the election came on in the Chelsea districts, and
the whole of the south-western part of the metropolis was covered
with posters bearing George Vavasor's name. "Vote for Vavasor and the
River Bank." That was the cry with which he went to the electors; and
though it must be presumed that it was understood by some portion of
the Chelsea electors, it was perfectly unintelligible to the majority
of those who read it. His special acquaintances and his general
enemies called him Viscount Riverbank, and he was pestered on all
sides by questions as to Father Thames. It was Mr. Scruby who invented
the legend, and who gave George Vavasor an infinity of trouble by the
invention. There was a question in those days as to embanking the
river from the Houses of Parliament up to the remote desolations
of further Pimlico, and Mr. Scruby recommended the coming Member
to pledge himself that he would have the work carried on even to
Battersea Bridge. "You must have a subject," pleaded Mr. Scruby. "No
young Member can do anything without a subject. And it should be
local;--that is to say, if you have anything of a constituency. Such
a subject as that, if it's well worked, may save you thousands of
pounds--thousands of pounds at future elections."
"It won't save me anything at this one, I take it."
"But it may secure the seat, Mr. Vavasor, and afterwards make you the
most popular metropolitan Member in the House; that is, with your
own constituency. Only look at the money that would be spent in the
districts if that were done! It would come to millions, sir!"
"But it never will be done."
"What matters that?" and Mr. Scruby almost became eloquent as he
explained the nature of a good parliamentary subject. "You should
work it up, so as to be able to discuss it at all points. Get the
figures by heart, and then, as nobody else will do so, nobody can put
you down. Of course it won't be done. If it were done, that would be
an end of it, and your bread would be taken out of your mouth. But
you can always promise it at the hustings, and can always demand
it in the House. I've known men who've walked into as much as two
thousand a year, permanent place, on the strength of a worse subject
than that!"
Vavasor allowed Mr. Scruby to manage the matter for him, and took
up the subject of the River Bank. "Vavasor and the River Bank"
was carried about by an army of men with iron shoulder-straps,
and huge pasteboard placards six feet high on the top of them.
You would think, as you saw the long rows, that the men were
being marshalled to their several routes; but they always kept
together--four-and-twenty at the heels of each other. "One placard
at a time would strike the eye," said Mr. Vavasor, counting the
expense up to himself. "There's no doubt of it," said Mr. Scruby in
reply. "One placard will do that, if it's big enough; but it takes
four-and-twenty to touch the imagination." And then sides of houses
were covered with that shibboleth--"Vavasor and the River Bank"--the
same words repeated in columns down the whole sides of houses.
Vavasor himself declared that he was ashamed to walk among his future
constituents, so conspicuous had his name become. Grimes saw it,
and was dismayed. At first, Grimes ridiculed the cry with all his
publican's wit. "Unless he mean to drown hisself in the Reach, it's
hard to say what he do mean by all that gammon about the River Bank,"
said Grimes, as he canvassed for the other Liberal candidate. But,
after a while, Grimes was driven to confess that Mr. Scruby knew what
he was about. "He is a sharp 'un, that he is," said Grimes in the
inside bar of the "Handsome Man;" and he almost regretted that he
had left the leadership of Mr. Scruby, although he knew that on this
occasion he would not have gotten his odd money.
George Vavasor, with much labour, actually did get up the subject of
the River Bank. He got himself introduced to men belonging to the
Metropolitan Board, and went manfully into the matter of pounds,
shillings, and pence. He was able even to work himself into an
apparent heat when he was told that the thing was out of the
question; and soon found that he had disciples who really believed in
him. If he could have brought himself to believe in the thing,--if
he could have been induced himself to care whether Chelsea was to
be embanked or no, the work would not have been so difficult to him.
In that case it would have done good to him, if to no one else. But
such belief was beyond him. He had gone too far in life to be capable
of believing in, or of caring for, such things. He was ambitious
of having a hand in the government of his country, but he was not
capable of caring even for that.
But he worked. He worked hard, and spoke vehemently, and promised
the men of Chelsea, Pimlico, and Brompton that the path of London
westwards had hardly commenced as yet. Sloane Street should be the
new Cheapside. Squares should arise around the Chelsea barracks, with
sides open to the water, for which Belgravia would be deserted. There
should be palaces there for the rich, because the rich spend their
riches; but no rich man's palace should interfere with the poor man's
right to the River Bank. Three millions and a half should be spent
on the noble street to be constructed, the grandest pathway that the
world should ever yet have seen; three millions and a half to be
drawn from,--to be drawn from anywhere except from Chelsea;--from the
bloated money-bags of the City Corporation, Vavasor once ventured
to declare, amidst the encouraging shouts of the men of Chelsea. Mr.
Scruby was forced to own that his pupil worked the subject well.
"Upon my word, that was uncommon good," he said, almost patting
Vavasor on the back, after a speech in which he had vehemently
asserted that his ambition to represent the Chelsea districts had all
come of his long-fixed idea that the glory of future London would be
brought about by the embankment of the river at Chelsea.
But armies of men carrying big boards, and public-houses open at
every corner, and placards in which the letters are three feet long,
cost money. Those few modest hundreds which Mr. Scruby had already
received before the work began, had been paid on the supposition that
the election would not take place till September. Mr. Scruby made an
early request, a very early request, that a further sum of fifteen
hundred pounds should be placed in his hands; and he did this in
a tone which clearly signified that not a man would be sent about
through the streets, or a poster put upon a wall, till this request
had been conceded. Mr. Scruby was in possession of two very distinct
manners of address. In his jovial moods, when he was instigating his
clients to fight their battles well, it might almost be thought that
he was doing it really for the love of the thing; and some clients,
so thinking, had believed for a few hours that Scruby, in his
jolly, passionate eagerness, would pour out his own money like dust,
trusting implicitly to future days for its return. But such clients
had soon encountered Mr. Scruby's other manner, and had perceived that
they were mistaken.
The thing had come so suddenly upon George Vavasor that there was not
time for him to carry on his further operations through his sister.
Had he written to Kate,--let him have written in what language he
would,--she would have first rejoined by a negative, and there would
have been a correspondence before he had induced her to comply.
He thought of sending for her by telegram, but even in that there
would have been too much delay. He resolved, therefore, to make his
application to Alice himself, and he wrote to her, explaining his
condition. The election had come upon him quite suddenly, as she
knew, he said. He wanted two thousand pounds instantly, and felt
little scruple in asking her for it, as he was aware that the old
Squire would be only too glad to saddle the property with a legacy
to Alice for the repayment of this money, though he would not have
advanced a shilling himself for the purpose of the election. Then
he said a word or two as to his prolonged absence from Queen Anne
Street. He had not been there because he had felt, from her manner
when they last met, that she would for a while prefer to be left free
from the unavoidable excitement of such interviews. But should he be
triumphant in his present contest, he should go to her to share his
triumph with her; or, should he fail, he should go to her to console
him in his failure.
Within three days he heard from her, saying that the money would
be at once placed to his credit. She sent him also her candid good
wishes for success in his enterprise, but beyond this her letter
said nothing. There was no word of love,--no word of welcome,--no
expression of a desire to see him. Vavasor, as he perceived all this
in the reading of her note, felt a triumph in the possession of her
money. She was ill-using him by her coldness, and there was comfort
in revenge. "It serves her right," he said to himself. "She should
have married me at once when she said she would do so, and then it
would have been my own."
When Mr. Tombe had communicated with John Grey on the matter of this
increased demand,--this demand which Mr. Tombe began to regard as
carrying a love-affair rather too far,--Grey had telegraphed back
that Vavasor's demand for money, if made through Mr. John Vavasor, was
to be honoured to the extent of five thousand pounds. Mr. Tombe raised
his eyebrows, and reflected that some men were very foolish. But John
Grey's money matters were of such a nature as to make Mr. Tombe know
that he must do as he was bidden; and the money was paid to George
Vavasor's account.
He told Kate nothing of this. Why should he trouble himself to do so?
Indeed, at this time he wrote no letters to his sister, though she
twice sent to him, knowing what his exigencies would be, and made
further tenders of her own money. He could not reply to these offers
without telling her that money had been forthcoming from that other
quarter, and so he left them unanswered.
In the meantime the battle went on gloriously. Mr. Travers, the other
Liberal candidate, spent his money freely,--or else some other person
did so on his behalf. When Mr. Scruby mentioned this last alternative
to George Vavasor, George cursed his own luck in that he had never
found such backers. "I don't call a man half a Member when he's
brought in like that," said Mr. Scruby, comforting him. "He can't do
what he likes with his vote. He ain't independent. You never hear of
those fellows getting anything good. Pay for the article yourself, Mr.
Vavasor, and then it's your own. That's what I always say."
Mr. Grimes went to work strenuously, almost fiercely, in the opposite
interest, telling all that he knew, and perhaps more than he knew, of
Vavasor's circumstances. He was at work morning, noon, and night, not
only in his own neighbourhood, but among those men on the river bank
of whom he had spoken so much in his interview with Vavasor in Cecil
Street. The entire Vavasorian army with its placards was entirely
upset on more than one occasion, and was once absolutely driven
ignominiously into the river mud. And all this was done under the
direction of Mr. Grimes. Vavasor himself was pelted with offal from
the sinking tide, so that the very name of the River Bank became
odious to him. He was a man who did not like to have his person
touched, and when they hustled him he became angry. "Lord love you,
Mr. Vavasor," said Scruby, "that's nothing! I've had a candidate so
mauled,--it was in the Hamlets, I think,--that there wasn't a spot
on him that wasn't painted with rotten eggs. The smell was something
quite awful. But I brought him in, through it all."
And Mr. Scruby at last did as much for George Vavasor as he had done
for the hero of the Hamlets. At the close of the poll Vavasor's name
stood at the head by a considerable majority, and Scruby comforted
him by saying that Travers certainly wouldn't stand the expense of a
petition, as the seat was to be held only for a few months.
"And you've done it very cheap, Mr. Vavasor," said Scruby,
"considering that the seat is metropolitan. I do say that you have
done it cheap. Another thousand, or twelve hundred, will cover
everything--say thirteen, perhaps, at the outside. And when you shall
have fought the battle once again, you'll have paid your footing, and
the fellows will let you in almost for nothing after that."
A further sum of thirteen hundred pounds was wanted at once, and then
the whole thing was to be repeated over again in six months' time!
This was not consolatory. But, nevertheless, there was a triumph in
the thing itself which George Vavasor was man enough to enjoy. It
would be something to have sat in the House of Commons, though it
should only have been for half a session.