Doctor Thorne by Anthony Trollope (interesting books to read TXT) 📖

CHAPTER XXII

Sir Roger Is Unseated

 

After this, little occurred at Greshamsbury, or among Greshamsbury

people, which it will be necessary for us to record. Some notice was,

of course, taking of Frank’s prolonged absence from his college; and

tidings, perhaps exaggerated tidings, of what had happened in Pall

Mall were not slow to reach the High Street of Cambridge. But that

affair was gradually hushed up; and Frank went on with his studies.

 

He went back to his studies: it then being an understood arrangement

between him and his father that he should not return to Greshamsbury

till the summer vacation. On this occasion, the squire and Lady

Arabella had, strange to say, been of the same mind. They both wished

to keep their son away from Miss Thorne; and both calculated, that

at his age and with his disposition, it was not probable that any

passion would last out a six months’ absence. “And when the summer

comes it will be an excellent opportunity for us to go abroad,” said

Lady Arabella. “Poor Augusta will require some change to renovate her

spirits.”

 

To this last proposition the squire did not assent. It was, however,

allowed to pass over; and this much was fixed, that Frank was not to

return home till midsummer.

 

It will be remembered that Sir Roger Scatcherd had been elected

as sitting member for the city of Barchester; but it will also be

remembered that a petition against his return was threatened. Had

that petition depended solely on Mr Moffat, Sir Roger’s seat no doubt

would have been saved by Frank Gresham’s cutting whip. But such

was not the case. Mr Moffat had been put forward by the de Courcy

interest; and that noble family with its dependants was not to go to

the wall because Mr Moffat had had a thrashing. No; the petition was

to go on; and Mr Nearthewinde declared, that no petition in his hands

had half so good a chance of success. “Chance, no, but certainty,”

said Mr Nearthewinde; for Mr Nearthewinde had learnt something with

reference to that honest publican and the payment of his little bill.

 

The petition was presented and duly backed; the recognisances were

signed, and all the proper formalities formally executed; and Sir

Roger found that his seat was in jeopardy. His return had been a

great triumph to him; and, unfortunately, he had celebrated that

triumph as he had been in the habit of celebrating most of the very

triumphant occasions of his life. Though he was than hardly yet

recovered from the effects of his last attack, he indulged in another

violent drinking bout; and, strange to say, did so without any

immediate visible bad effects.

 

In February he took his seat amidst the warm congratulations of

all men of his own class, and early in the month of April his case

came on for trial. Every kind of electioneering sin known to the

electioneering world was brought to his charge; he was accused of

falseness, dishonesty, and bribery of every sort: he had, it was said

in the paper of indictment, bought votes, obtained them by treating,

carried them off by violence, conquered them by strong drink, polled

them twice over, counted those of dead men, stolen them, forged them,

and created them by every possible, fictitious contrivance: there was

no description of wickedness appertaining to the task of procuring

votes of which Sir Roger had not been guilty, either by himself or

by his agents. He was quite horror-struck at the list of his own

enormities. But he was somewhat comforted when Mr Closerstil told him

that the meaning of it all was that Mr Romer, the barrister, had paid

a former bill due to Mr Reddypalm, the publican.

 

“I fear he was indiscreet, Sir Roger; I really fear he was. Those

young mean always are. Being energetic, they work like horses; but

what’s the use of energy without discretion, Sir Roger?”

 

“But, Mr Closerstil, I knew nothing about it from first to last.”

 

“The agency can be proved, Sir Roger,” said Mr Closerstil, shaking

his head. And then there was nothing further to be said on the

matter.

 

In these days of snow-white purity all political delinquency is

abominable in the eyes of British politicians; but no delinquency is

so abominable as that of venality at elections. The sin of bribery is

damnable. It is the one sin for which, in the House of Commons, there

can be no forgiveness. When discovered, it should render the culprit

liable to political death, without hope of pardon. It is treason

against a higher throne than that on which the Queen sits. It is a

heresy which requires an auto-da-fé. It is a pollution to the whole

House, which can only be cleansed by a great sacrifice. Anathema

maranatha! out with it from amongst us, even though the half of our

heart’s blood be poured forth in the conflict! out with it, and for

ever!

 

Such is the language of patriotic members with regard to bribery;

and doubtless, if sincere, they are in the right. It is a bad thing,

certainly, that a rich man should buy votes; bad also that a poor man

should sell them. By all means let us repudiate such a system with

heartfelt disgust.

 

With heartfelt disgust, if we can do so, by all means; but not with

disgust pretended only and not felt in the heart at all. The laws

against bribery at elections are now so stringent that an unfortunate

candidate may easily become guilty, even though actuated by the

purest intentions. But not the less on that account does any

gentleman, ambitious of the honour of serving his country in

Parliament, think it necessary as a preliminary measure to provide

a round sum of money at his banker’s. A candidate must pay for no

treating, no refreshments, no band of music; he must give neither

ribbons to the girls nor ale to the men. If a huzza be uttered in

his favour, it is at his peril; it may be necessary for him to prove

before a committee that it was the spontaneous result of British

feeling in his favour, and not the purchased result of British beer.

He cannot safely ask any one to share his hotel dinner. Bribery hides

itself now in the most impalpable shapes, and may be effected by the

offer of a glass of sherry. But not the less on this account does a

poor man find that he is quite unable to overcome the difficulties of

a contested election.

 

We strain at our gnats with a vengeance, but we swallow our camels

with ease. For what purpose is it that we employ those peculiarly

safe men of business—Messrs Nearthewinde and Closerstil—when we

wish to win our path through all obstacles into that sacred recess,

if all be so open, all so easy, all so much above board? Alas! the

money is still necessary, is still prepared, or at any rate expended.

The poor candidate of course knows nothing of the matter till the

attorney’s bill is laid before him, when all danger of petitions has

passed away. He little dreamed till then, not he, that there had been

banquetings and junketings, secret doings and deep drinkings at his

expense. Poor candidate! Poor member! Who was so ignorant as he!

‘Tis true he has paid such bills before; but ‘tis equally true that

he specially begged his managing friend, Mr Nearthewinde, to be

very careful that all was done according to law! He pays the bill,

however, and on the next election will again employ Mr Nearthewinde.

 

Now and again, at rare intervals, some glimpse into the inner

sanctuary does reach the eyes of ordinary mortal men without;