"I should be inclined to support the government if I were going into Parliament as a young man," said Mr. Die.
"There are nine seniors of mine in the House who now do so." By seniors, Mr. Harcourt alluded to his seniors at the bar.
"Yes; but they like young blood nowadays. I think it's the safest."
"I shall never carry the Battersea Hamlets unless I pledge myself on this corn-law question."
"Well," said Mr. Die—"well; a seat is certainly a great thing, and not to be had at any moment. I think I should be inclined to yield to the electors."
"And commit myself to the repeal of the corn laws?"
"Commit yourself!" said Mr. Die, with a gentle smile. "A public man has to commit himself to many things nowadays. But my opinion is, that—that you may hold the popular opinion about free trade, and be not a whit the less useful to Sir Robert on that account."
Mr. Harcourt was still a young man, and was, therefore, excusable in not seeing to the depth of Mr. Die's wisdom. He certainly did not see to the depth of it; but he had come to his oracle with faith, and wisely resolved to be guided by wisdom so much superior to his own.
"Never bind yourself wantonly to an expiring policy," said Mr. Die. "The man who does so has surely to unbind himself; and, to say the least of it, that always takes time."
So Mr. Harcourt presented himself to the electors of the Battersea Hamlets as a man very anxious in their behalf in all things, but anxious in their behalf above all things for free trade in corn. "Is it credible, that now, in this year of grace 184—,—" and so on. Such were the eloquent words which he addressed to the electors on this subject, and so taken were they by his enthusiasm that they returned him by a large majority.