The very thought almost cut the proud manufacturer off with apoplexy. The ghosts of a thousand paupers rose up before him, and he was black in the face. It was only by a prompt and bold application of leeches and lancet, that the life of the great man was saved. But there was an end of all further friendship between himself and the expectant Simon. He insisted that he should withdraw from the concern, and it was done. Simon, who felt his own dignity deeply wounded too, for dignity he had, though the last of a long line of paupers—his own dignity, not his ancestors’—took silently, yet not unrespectfully, his share—a good round sum, and entered another house of business.
For several years there appeared to be a feud, and a bitterness between the former friends; yet, it showed itself in no other manner, than by a careful avoidance of each other. The continental war came to an end; the manufacturing distress increased exceedingly. Then came troublous times, and a fierce warfare of politics. Great Castleborough was torn asunder by rival parties. On one side stood pre-eminent, Mr. Spires; on the other towered conspicuously, Simon Deg. Simon was growing rich, and was extremely popular. He was on all occasions the advocate of the people. He said that he had sprung from, and was one of them. He had bought a large tract of land on one side of the town; and intensely fond of the country and flowers himself, he had divided this into gardens, built little summer-houses in them, and let them to the artizans. In his factory, he had introduced order, cleanliness, and ventilation. He had set up a school for the children, besides an evening and Sunday school for such as had begun to work in the factory or the loom, with a reading-room and conversation-room for the workpeople, and encouraged them to bring their families there, and enjoy music, books, and lectures. Accordingly, he was the idol of the people, and the horror of the old school of the manufacturers.
“A pretty upstart and demagogue I’ve nurtured,” said Mr. Spires often to his wife and daughter, who only sighed and were silent.
Then came a furious election. The town for a fortnight, more resembled the worst corner of Tartarus, than a Christian borough. Drunkenness, riot, pumping on one another, spencering one another, that is, tearing each other’s coat-tails off, all sorts of violence and abuse ruled and raged, till the blood of all Castleborough was at boiling heat. In the midst of the tempest were everywhere seen, ranged on the opposite sides, Mr. Spires, now old and immensely corpulent, and Simon Deg, active, buoyant, zealous, and popular beyond measure. But popular though he still was, the other and old tory side triumphed. The people were exasperated to madness; and when the chairing of the successful candidate commenced, there was a terrific attack made on the procession by the defeated party. Down went the chair, and the new member, glad to escape into an inn, saw his friends mercilessly assailed by the populace. There was a tremendous tempest of sticks, brickbats, paving-stones and rotten eggs. In the midst of this, Simon Deg, and a number of his friends, standing at the upper window of an hotel, saw Mr. Spires knocked down, and trampled on by the crowd. In an instant, and before his friends had missed him from amongst them, Simon Deg was seen darting through the raging mass, cleaving his way with a surprising vigour, and gesticulating, and, no doubt, shouting vehemently to the rioters, though his voice was lost in the din. In the next moment his hat was knocked off, and himself appeared in imminent danger; but another moment, and there was a pause, and a group of people were bearing somebody from the frantic mob into a neighbouring shop. It was Simon Deg assisting in the rescue of his old friend and benefactor, Mr. Spires.
Mr. Spires was a good deal bruised, and wonderfully confounded and bewildered by his fall. His clothes were one mass of mud, and his face was bleeding copiously; but when he had had a good draught of water, and his face washed, and had time to recover himself, it was found that he had received no serious injury.
“They had like to have done for me, though,” said he.
“Yes; and who saved you?” asked a gentleman.
“Ay, who was it? who was it?” asked the really warm-hearted manufacturer. “Let me know; I owe him my life.”
“There he is!” said several gentlemen at the same instant, pushing forward Simon Deg.
“What, Simon!” said Mr. Spires, starting to his feet. “Was it thee, my boy?” He did more—he stretched out his hand. The young man clasped it eagerly; and the two stood silent, and with a heartfelt emotion, which blended all the past into forgetfulness, and the future into a union more sacred than esteem.