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.