THE CONSERVATIVES OF PERCYCROSS.
Early in this month of September there had come a proposition to Sir
Thomas, which had thoroughly disturbed him, and made him for a few
days a most miserable man. By the tenth of the month, however, he
had so far recovered himself as to have made up his mind in regard
to the proposition with some feeling of triumphant expectation.
On the following day he went home to Fulham, and communicated
his determination to his eldest daughter in the following words;
"Patience, I am going to stand for the borough of Percycross."
"Papa!"
"Yes. I dare say I'm a fool for my pains. It will cost me some money
which I oughtn't to spend; and if I get in I don't know that I can do
any good, or that it can do me any good. I suppose you think I'm very
wrong?"
"I am delighted,--and so will Clary be. I'm so much pleased! Why
shouldn't you be in Parliament? I have always longed that you should
go back to public life, though I have never liked to say so to you."
"It is very kind of you to say it now, my dear."
"And I feel it." There was no doubt of that, for, as she spoke, the
tears were streaming from her eyes. "But will you succeed? Is there
to be anybody against you?"
"Yes, my dear; there is to be somebody against me. In fact, there
will be three people against me; and probably I shall not succeed.
Men such as I am do not have seats offered to them without a contest.
But there is a chance. I was down at Percycross for two days last
week, and now I've put out an address. There it is." Upon which he
handed a copy of a placard to his daughter, who read it, no doubt,
with more enthusiasm than did any of the free and independent
electors to whom it was addressed.
The story in regard to the borough of Percycross was as follows.
There were going forward in the country at this moment preparations
for a general election, which was to take place in October. The
readers of this story have not as yet been troubled on this head,
there having been no connection between that great matter and the
small matters with which our tale has concerned itself. In the
Parliament lately dissolved, the very old borough of Percycross,--or
Percy St. Cross, as the place was properly called,--had displayed no
political partiality, having been represented by two gentlemen, one
of whom always followed the conservative leader, and the other the
liberal leader, into the respective lobbies of the House of Commons.
The borough had very nearly been curtailed of the privilege in regard
to two members in the great Reform Bill which had been initiated
and perfected and carried through as a whole by the almost unaided
intellect and exertions of the great reformer of his age; but it had
had its own luck, as the Irishmen say, and had been preserved intact.
Now the wise men of Percycross, rejoicing in their salvation, and
knowing that there might still be danger before them should they
venture on a contest,--for bribery had not been unknown in previous
contests at Percycross, nor petitions consequent upon bribery; and
some men had marvelled that the borough should have escaped so
long; and there was now supposed to be abroad a spirit of assumed
virtue in regard to such matters under which Percycross might
still be sacrificed if Percycross did not look very sharp after
itself;--thinking of all this, the wise men at Percycross had
concluded that it would be better, just for the present, to let
things run smoothly, and to return their two old members. When the
new broom which was to sweep up the dirt of corruption was not quite
so new, they might return to the old game,--which was, in truth, a
game very much loved in the old town of Percycross. So thought the
wise men, and for a while it seemed that the wise men were to have
their own way. But there were men at Percycross who were not wise,
and who would have it that such an arrangement as this showed lack of
spirit. The conservative foolish men at Percycross began by declaring
that they could return two members for the borough if they pleased,
and that they would do so, unless this and that were conceded to
them. The liberal foolish men swore that they were ready for the
battle. They would concede nothing, and would stand up and fight if
the word concession were named to them. They would not only have one
member, but would have half the aldermen, half the town-councillors,
half the mayor, half the patronage in beadles, bell-ringers and
bumbledom in general. Had the great reformer of the age given them
household suffrage for nothing? The liberal foolish men of Percycross
declared, and perhaps thought, that they could send two liberal
members to Parliament. And so the borough grew hot. There was
one very learned pundit in those parts, a pundit very learned in
political matters, who thus prophesied to one of the proposed
candidates;--"You'll spend a thousand pounds in the election. You
won't get in, of course, but you'll petition. That'll be another
thousand. You'll succeed there, and disfranchise the borough. It will
be a great career, and no doubt you'll find it satisfactory. You
mustn't show yourself in Percycross afterwards;--that's all." But the
spirit was afloat, and the words of the pundit were of no avail. The
liberal spirit had been set a going, and men went to work with the
new lists of borough voters. By the end of August it was seen that
there must be a contest. But who should be the new candidates?
The old candidates were there,--one on each side: an old Tory and a
young Radical. In telling our tale we will not go back to the old
sins of the borough, or say aught but good of the past career of the
members. Old Mr. Griffenbottom, the Tory, had been very generous with
his purse, and was beloved, doubtless, by many in the borough. It
is so well for a borough to have some one who is always ready with
a fifty-pound note in this or that need! It is so comfortable in a
borough to know that it can always have its subscription lists well
headed! And the young Radical was popular throughout the county. No
one could take a chair at a mechanics' meeting with better grace or
more alacrity, or spin out his half-hour's speech with greater ease
and volubility. And then he was a born gentleman, which is so great a
recommendation for a Radical. So that, in fact, young Mr. Westmacott,
though he did not spend so much money as old Griffenbottom,
was almost as popular in the borough. There was no doubt about
Griffenbottom and Westmacott,--if only the borough would have
listened to its wise men and confined itself to the political
guardianship of such excellent representatives! But the foolish men
prevailed over the wise men, and it was decided that there should be
a contest.
It was an evil day for Griffenbottom when it was suggested to him
that he should bring a colleague with him. Griffenbottom knew what
this meant almost as well as the learned pundit whose words we
have quoted. Griffenbottom had not been blessed with uncontested
elections, and had run through many perils. He had spent what he was
accustomed to call, when speaking of his political position among his
really intimate friends, "a treasure" in maintaining the borough. He
must often have considered within himself whether his whistle was
worth the price. He had petitioned and been petitioned against, and
had had evil things said of him, and had gone through the very heat
of the fire of political warfare. But he had kept his seat, and now
at last,--so he thought,--the ease and comfort of an unopposed return
was to repay him for everything. Alas! how all this was changed; how
his spirits sank within him, when he received that high-toned letter
from his confidential agent, Mr. Trigger, in which he was invited
to suggest the name of a colleague! "I'm sure you'll be rejoiced to
hear, for the sake of the old borough," said Mr. Trigger, "that we
feel confident of carrying the two seats." Could Mr. Trigger have
heard the remarks which his patron made on reading that letter,
Mr. Trigger would have thought that Mr. Griffenbottom was the most
ungrateful member of Parliament in the world. What did not Mr.
Griffenbottom owe to the borough of Percycross? Did he not owe all
his position in the world, all his friends, the fact that he was
to be seen on the staircases of Cabinet Ministers, and that he was
called "honourable friend" by the sons of dukes,--did he not owe it
all to the borough of Percycross? Mr. Trigger and other friends of
his, felt secure in their conviction that they had made a man of
Mr. Griffenbottom. Mr. Griffenbottom understood enough of all this
to answer Mr. Trigger without inserting in his letter any of those
anathemas which he uttered in the privacy of his own closet. He
did, indeed, expostulate, saying, that he would of course suggest
a colleague, if a colleague were required; but did not Mr. Trigger
and his other friends in the dear old borough think that just at
the present moment a pacific line of action would be best for the
interests of the dear old borough? Mr. Trigger answered him very
quickly, and perhaps a little sharply. The Liberals had decided upon
having two men in the field, and therefore a pacific line of action
was no longer possible. Mr. Griffenbottom hurried over to the dear
old borough, still hoping,--but could do nothing. The scent of the
battle was in the air, and the foolish men of Percycross were keen
for blood. Mr. Griffenbottom smiled and promised, and declared to
himself that there was no peace for the politician on this side
the grave. He made known his desires,--or the desire rather of the
borough,--to a certain gentleman connected with a certain club in
London, and the gentleman in question on the following day waited
upon Sir Thomas. Sir Thomas had always been true "to the party,"--so
the gentleman in question was good enough to say. Everybody had
regretted the loss of Sir Thomas from the House. The present
opportunity of returning to it was almost unparalleled, seeing that
thing was so nearly a certainty. Griffenbottom had always been at the
top of the poll, and the large majority of the new voters were men in
the employment of conservative masters. The gentleman in question was
very clear in his explanation that there was a complete understanding
on this matter between the employers and employed at Percycross. It
was the nature of the Percycross artizan to vote as his master voted.
They made boots, mustard, and paper at Percycross. The men in the
mustard and paper trade were quite safe;--excellent men, who went
in a line to the poll, and voted just as the master paper-makers
and master mustard-makers desired. The gentleman from the club
acknowledged that there was a difficulty about the boot-trade. All
the world over, boots do affect radical sentiments. The master
bootmakers,--there were four in the borough,--were decided; but the
men could not be got at with any certainty.
"Why should you wish to get at them?" demanded Sir Thomas.
"No;--of course not; one doesn't wish to get at them," said the
gentleman from the club,--"particularly as we are safe without them."
Then he went into statistics, and succeeded in proving to Sir Thomas
that there would be a hard fight. Sir Thomas, who was much pressed as
to time, took a day to consider. "Did Mr. Griffenbottom intend to
fight the battle with clean hands?" The gentleman from the club was
eager in declaring that everything would be done in strict accordance
with the law. He could give no guarantee as to expenses, but presumed
it would be about £300,--perhaps £400,--certainly under £500. The
other party no doubt would bribe. They always did. And on their
behalf,--on behalf of Westmacott and Co.,--there would be treating,
and intimidation, and subornation, and fictitious voting, and every
sin to which an election is subject. It always was so with the
Liberals at Percycross. But Sir Thomas might be sure that on his side
everything would be--"serene." Sir Thomas at last consented to go
down to Percycross, and see one or two of his proposed supporters.
He did go down, and was considerably disgusted. Mr. Trigger took him
in hand and introduced him to three or four gentlemen in the borough.
Sir Thomas, in his first interview with Mr. Trigger, declared his
predilection for purity. "Yes, yes; yes, yes; of course," said Mr.
Trigger. Mr. Trigger, seeing that Sir Thomas had come among them
as a stranger to whom had been offered the very great honour of
standing for the borough of Percycross,--offered to him before
he had subscribed a shilling to any of the various needs of the
borough,--was not disposed to listen to dictation. But Sir Thomas
insisted. "It's as well that we should understand each other at
once," said Sir Thomas. "I should throw up the contest in the middle
of it,--even if I were winning,--if I suspected that money was being
spent improperly." How often has the same thing been said by a
candidate, and what candidate ever has thrown up the sponge when he
was winning? Mr. Trigger was at first disposed to tell Sir Thomas
that he was interfering in things beyond his province. Had it not
been that the day was late, and that the Liberals were supposed to
be hard at work,--that the candidate was wanted at once, Mr. Trigger
would have shown his spirit. As it was he could only assent with a
growl, and say that he had supposed all that was to be taken as a
matter of course.
"But I desire to have it absolutely understood by all those who act
with me in this matter," said Sir Thomas. "At any rate I will not be
petitioned against."
"Petitions never come to much at Percycross," said Mr. Trigger. He
certainly ought to have known, as he had had to do with a great many
of them. Then they started to call upon two or three of the leading
conservative gentlemen. "If I were you, I wouldn't say anything about
that, Sir Thomas."
"About what?"
"Well;--bribery and petitions, and the rest of it. Gentlemen when
they're consulted don't like to be told of those sort of things.
There has been a little of it, perhaps. Who can say?" Who, indeed, if
not Mr. Trigger,--in regard to Percycross? "But it's better to let
all that die out of itself. It never came to much in Percycross. I
don't think there was ever more than ten shillings to be had for a
vote. And I've known half-a-crown a piece buy fifty of 'em," he added
emphatically. "It never was of much account, and it's best to say
nothing about it."
"It's best perhaps to make one's intentions known," said Sir Thomas
mildly. Mr. Trigger hummed and hawed, and shook his head, and put
his hands into his trousers pockets;--and in his heart of hearts he
despised Sir Thomas.
On that day Sir Thomas was taken to see four gentlemen of note in
Percycross,--a mustard-maker, a paper-maker, and two bootmakers. The
mustard-maker was very cordial in offering his support. He would do
anything for the cause. Trigger knew him. The men were all right
at his mills. Then Sir Thomas said a word. He was a great foe to
intimidation;--he wouldn't for worlds have the men coerced. The
mustard-maker laughed cheerily. "We know what all that comes to at
Percycross; don't we, Trigger? We shall all go straight from this
place;--shan't we, Trigger? And he needn't ask any questions;--need
he, Trigger?" "Lord 'a mercy, no," said Trigger, who was beginning to
be disgusted. Then they went on to the paper-maker's.
The paper-maker was a very polite gentleman, who seemed to take
great delight in shaking Sir Thomas by the hand, and who agreed
with energy to every word Sir Thomas said. Trigger stood a little
apart at the paper-maker's, as soon as the introduction had been
performed,--perhaps disapproving in part of the paper-maker's
principles. "Certainly not, Sir Thomas; not for the world, Sir
Thomas. I'm clean against anything of that kind, Sir Thomas," said
the paper-maker. Sir Thomas assured the paper-maker that he was glad
to hear it;--and he was glad. As they went to the first bootmaker's,
Mr. Trigger communicated to Sir Thomas a certain incident in the
career of Mr. Spiveycomb, the paper-maker. "He's got a contract
for paper from the 'Walhamshire Herald,' Sir Thomas;--the largest
circulation anywhere in these parts. Griffenbottom gets him that; and
if ere a man of his didn't vote as he bade 'em, he wouldn't keep 'em,
not a day. I don't know that we've a man in Percycross so stanch as
old Spiveycomb." This was Mr. Trigger's revenge.
The first bootmaker had very little to say for himself, and hardly
gave Sir Thomas much opportunity of preaching his doctrine of purity.
"I hope you'll do something for our trade, Sir Thomas," said the
first bootmaker. Sir Thomas explained that he did not at present see
his way to the doing of anything special for the bootmakers; and then
took his leave. "He's all right," said Mr. Trigger. "He means it.
He's all right. And he'll say a word to his men too, though I don't
know that much 'll come of it. They're a rum lot. If they're put out
here to-day, they can get in there to-morrow. They're a cankery
independent sort of chaps, are bootmakers. Now we'll go and see old
Pile. He'll have to second one of you,--will Pile. He's a sort of
father of the borough in the way of Conservatives. And look here, Sir
Thomas;--let him talk. Don't you say much to him. It's no use in life
talking to old Pile." Sir Thomas said nothing, but he determined that
he would speak to old Pile just as freely as he had to Mr. Trigger
himself.
"Eh;--ah;"--said old Pile; "you're Sir Thomas Underwood, are you? And
you wants to go into Parliament?"
"If it please you and your townsmen to send me there."
"Yes;--that's just it. But if it don't please?"
"Why, then I'll go home again."
"Just so;--but the people here ain't what they are at other places,
Sir Thomas Underwood. I've seen many elections here, Sir Thomas."
"No doubt you have, Mr. Pile."
"Over a dozen;--haven't you, Mr. Pile?" said Trigger.
"And carried on a deal better than they have been since you meddled
with them," said Mr. Pile, turning upon Trigger. "They used to do the
thing here as it should be done, and nobody wasn't extortionate, nor
yet cross-grained. They're changing a deal about these things, I'm
told; but they're changing all for the worse. They're talking of
purity,--purity,--purity; and what does it all amount to? Men is
getting greedier every day."
"We mean to be pure at this election, Mr. Pile," said Sir Thomas. Mr.
Pile looked him hard in the face. "At least I do, Mr. Pile. I can
answer for myself." Mr. Pile turned away his face, and opened his
mouth, and put his hand upon his stomach, and made a grimace, as
though,--as though he were not quite as well as he might be. And such
was the case with him. The idea of purity of election at Percy-cross
did in truth make him feel very sick. It was an idea which he hated
with his whole heart. There was to him something absolutely mean and
ignoble in the idea of a man coming forward to represent a borough in
Parliament without paying the regular fees. That somebody, somewhere,
should make a noise about it,--somebody who was impalpable to him, in
some place that was to him quite another world,--was intelligible.
It might be all very well in Manchester and such-like disagreeable
places. But that candidates should come down to Percycross and talk
about purity there, was a thing abominable to him. He had nothing to
get by bribery. To a certain extent he was willing to pay money in
bribery himself. But that a stranger should come to the borough and
want the seat without paying for it was to him so distasteful, that
this assurance from the mouth of one of the candidates did make him
very sick.
"I think you'd better go back to London, Sir Thomas," said Mr. Pile,
as soon as he recovered himself sufficiently to express his opinion.
"You mean that my ideas as to standing won't suit the borough."
"No, they won't, Sir Thomas. I don't suppose anybody else will tell
you so,--but I'll do it. Why should, a poor man lose his day's wages
for the sake of making you a Parliament man? What have you done for
any of 'em?"
"Half an hour would take a working man to the poll and back," argued
Sir Thomas.
"That's all you know about elections. That's not the way we manage
matters here. There won't be any place of business agait that day."
Then Mr. Trigger whispered a few words to Mr. Pile. Mr. Pile repeated
the grimace which he had made before, and turned on his heel although
he was in his own parlour, as though he were going to leave them.
But he thought better of this, and turned again. "I always vote Blue
myself," said Mr. Pile, "and I don't suppose I shall do otherwise
this time. But I shan't take no trouble. There's a many things that I
don't like, Sir Thomas. Good morning, Sir Thomas. It's all very well
for Mr. Trigger. He knows where the butter lies for his bread."
"A very disagreeable old man," said Sir Thomas, when they had left
the house, thinking that as Mr. Trigger had been grossly insulted by
the bootmaker he would probably coincide in this opinion.
But Mr. Trigger knew his townsman well, and was used to him. "He's
better than some of 'em, Sir Thomas. He'll do as much as he says, and
more. Now there was that chap Spicer at the mustard works. They say
Westmacott people are after him, and if they can make it worth his
while he'll go over. There's some talk about Apothecary's Hall;--I
don't know what it is. But you couldn't buy old Pile if you were to
give him the Queen and all the Royal family to make boots for."
This was to have been the last of Sir Thomas's preliminary visits
among the leading Conservatives of the borough, but as they were
going back to the "Percy Standard,"--for such was the name of the
Blue inn in the borough,--Mr. Trigger saw a gentleman in black
standing at an open hall door, and immediately proposed that they
should just say a word or two to Mr. Pabsby. "Wesleyan minister,"
whispered the Percycross bear-leader into the ear of his bear;--"and
has a deal to say to many of the men, and more to the women. Can't
say what he'll do;--split his vote, probably." Then he introduced
the two men, explaining the cause of Sir Thomas's presence in the
borough. Mr. Pabsby was delighted to make the acquaintance of Sir
Thomas, and asked the two gentlemen into the house. In truth he was
delighted. The hours often ran heavily with him, and here there was
something for him to do. "You'll give us a help, Mr. Pabsby?" said
Mr. Trigger. Mr. Pabsby smiled and rubbed his hands, and paused and
laid his head on one side.
"I hope he will," said Sir Thomas, "if he is of our way cf thinking,
otherwise I should be sorry to ask him." Still Mr. Pabsby said
nothing;--but he smiled very sweetly, and laid his head a little
lower.
[Illustration: Still Mr. Pabsby said nothing;--but he smiled
very sweetly, and laid his head a little lower.]
"He knows we're on the respectable side," said Mr. Trigger. "The
Wesleyans now are most as one as the Church of England,--in the way
of not being roughs and rowdies." Sir Thomas, who did not know Mr.
Pabsby, was afraid that he would be offended at this; but he showed
no sign of offence as he continued to rub his hands. Mr. Pabsby was
meditating his speech.
"We're a little hurried, Mr. Pabsby," said Mr. Trigger; "perhaps
you'll think of it."
But Mr. Pabsby was not going to let them escape in that way. It
was not every day that he had a Sir Thomas, or a candidate for the
borough, or even a Mr. Trigger, in that little parlour. The fact was
that Mr. Trigger, who generally knew what he was about, had made a
mistake. Sir Thomas, who was ready enough to depart, saw that an
immediate escape was impossible. "Sir Thomas," began Mr. Pabsby, in
a soft, greasy voice,--a voice made up of pretence, politeness and
saliva,--"if you will give me three minutes to express myself on this
subject I shall be obliged to you."
"Certainly," said Sir Thomas, sitting bolt upright in his chair, and
holding his hat as though he were determined to go directly the three
minutes were over.
"A minister of the Gospel in this town is placed in a peculiar
position, Sir Thomas," said Mr. Pabsby very slowly, "and of all
the ministers of religion in Percycross mine is the most peculiar.
In this matter I would wish to be guided wholly by duty, and if I
could see my way clearly I would at once declare it to you. But, Sir
Thomas, I owe much to the convictions of my people."
"Which way do you mean to vote?" asked Mr. Trigger.
Mr. Pabsby did not even turn his face at this interruption. "A
private man, Sir Thomas, may follow the dictates of--of--of his own
heart, perhaps." Here he paused, expecting to be encouraged by some
words. But Sir Thomas had acquired professionally a knowledge that
to such a speaker as Mr. Pabsby any rejoinder or argument was like
winding up a clock. It is better to allow such clocks to run down.
"With me, I have to consider every possible point. What will my
people wish? Some of them are eager in the cause of reform, Sir
Thomas; and some others--"
"We shall lose the train," said Mr. Trigger, jumping up and putting
on his hat.
"I'm afraid we shall," said Sir Thomas rising, but not putting on
his.
"Half a minute," said Mr. Pabsby pleading, but not rising from his
chair. "Perhaps you will do me the honour of calling on me when you
are again here in Percycross. I shall have the greatest pleasure in
discussing a few matters with you, Sir Thomas; and then, if I can
give you my poor help, it will give me and Mrs. Pabsby the most
sincere pleasure." Mrs. Pabsby had now entered the room, and was
introduced; but Trigger would not sit down again, nor take off his
hat. He boldly marshalled the way to the door, while Sir Thomas
followed, subject as he came to the eloquence of Mr. Pabsby. "If I
can only see my way clearly, Sir Thomas," were the last words which
Mr. Pabsby spoke.
"He'll give one to Griffenbottom, certainly," said Mr. Trigger.
"Westmacott 'll probably have the other. I thought perhaps your title
might have gone down with him, but it didn't seem to take."
All this was anything but promising, anything but comfortable; and
yet before he went to bed that night Sir Thomas had undertaken to
stand. In such circumstances it is very hard for a man to refuse. He
feels that a certain amount of trouble has been taken on his behalf,
that retreat will be cowardly, and that the journey for nothing will
be personally disagreeable to his own feelings. And then, too, there
was that renewed ambition in his breast,--an ambition which six
months ago he would have declared to be at rest for ever,--but
which prompted him, now as strongly as ever, to go forward and do
something. It is so easy to go and see;--so hard to retreat when one
has seen. He had not found Percycross to be especially congenial
to him. He had felt himself to be out of his element there,--among
people with whom he had no sympathies; and he felt also that he had
been unfitted for this kind of thing by the life which he had led for
the last few years. Still he undertook to stand.
"Who is coming forward on the other side?" he asked Mr. Trigger late
at night, when this matter had been decided in regard to himself.
"Westmacott, of course," said Trigger, "and I'm told that the real
Rads of the place have got hold of a fellow named Moggs."
"Moggs!" ejaculated Sir Thomas.
"Yes;--Moggs. The Young Men's Reform Association is bringing him
forward. He's a Trades' Union man, and a Reform Leaguer, and all that
kind of thing. I shouldn't be surprised if he got in. They say he's
got money."