CHAPTER XIV.

AN ENCOUNTER.

One morning, shortly after the events described in the previous chapter, all England was startled by the intelligence that the Ministry had been beaten, that the leader of the Liberal Party had resigned, and that the free and independent were to be called on to exercise their privileges by returning members to Parliament likely to serve them well, and to promote the honour of the country, and the best interests of the community at large. I write this last sentence with peculiar pleasure. It sounds nice and pleasant. The fact is, I fear, the free and independent electors, as a rule, take little interest in politics. The working man is, as he has every right to be, suspicious of both parties alike, and especially of his oratorical brother of his own cla.s.s, who comes to him with a pocket well lined as the result of his professional talk.

Liberal and Conservative clubs and newspapers were much excited.

According to them never had there been such tremendous interests at stake. They, the enlightened, were to rally round the altar and the throne, both in danger, said the latter, while the former called on the intelligent manhood of the country to take one more step in the paths of progress and reform, and by that step to secure for ever the triumphs our forefathers had won for us with their blood.

Never were there such tremendous gatherings at Sloville. The Liberal leaders had held an open air meeting, which was the grandest thing of the kind ever known, but it was surpa.s.sed by an artfully got up demonstration by the Tories, accompanied by popular sports and cakes and ale. The one drawback to the success of the Liberal Party was that they had been in office for half a dozen years, and had disgusted all their friends, and had given the enemy occasion to blaspheme by their utter inability to pa.s.s any good measures, by their irresolute policy on foreign matters, by their extravagant expenditure at home, by their complete abandonment of their old battle-cry of 'peace, retrenchment, and reform.' Trade also was bad, and that did not mend matters. People are always discontented when times are bad. That is always the fault of the Government for the time being. It is generally a.s.sumed also that they are, to a certain extent, responsible for the weather. There had been a great deal of wet, and that the farmers attributed to the Radical element.

Farmers are naturally averse to Radicals. The Radical naturally thinks the farmers fools, because they are averse to change, and prefer to vote for their landlords to strangers sent down to agitate the country, who did not own an acre of land in it, who resided chiefly in our great cities, and who had little sympathy with agriculturists or agriculture in any shape.

The farmers are not quite such fools as the town radicals are apt to fancy. Most of them had good landlords, and few of them were averse to the Church, and it was pretty clear to the agricultural mind that whilst the big loaf, like the celebrated Pickwick pen, was a boon and a blessing to men, it was a grievous loss to themselves; much more so than was antic.i.p.ated by the learned, who a.s.sured the farmers that it was impossible to flood the market with American wheat under fifty shillings the quarter. At Sloville also the brewers were afraid of the Liberal Party, who seemed much inclined to shut up the public-houses or, at any rate, to worry the trade. They struck up an alliance with the Church, and that alliance between the friends of the Bible and beer threatened serious danger to Liberals at Sloville as well as elsewhere.

It was clear that the battle to be fought was a very severe one; that a good deal of money would have to be spent on both sides; a great many windy orations made, and a good deal of the trickery usual at election time would have to be resorted to. The theory of representative inst.i.tutions is beautiful. Nothing sounds finer than an appeal to the country. It is a grand thing for the rulers of the people to have to come to them at times, and ask for a renewal of their confidence, and a new lease of political power. It presumes that the public take an interest in public questions, that they are educated and intelligent; that they know their duty, and are prepared to discharge it; that they are above all paltry and personal considerations; that they only care for the public good. It a.s.sumes also that the candidates are men of intelligence and patriotism-not merely wealthy n.o.bodies anxious for the social distinction of a seat in Parliament; or barristers in search of office; or aristocratic hangers-on, hoping, by means of Parliamentary influence, to secure an honourable position in one or other of the services: diplomatic, or naval, or military.

For a long time Sloville had rejoiced in an independent Radical as a representative, and yet Sloville was hard up. It is true that he had feathered his own nest by securing for his son a good Government appointment, but that had been no benefit to Sloville. He had also offended his const.i.tuents by the paltry way in which he subscribed to the local charities and local amus.e.m.e.nts. He was believed to be n.i.g.g.ardly.

It was known that he dealt at the Civil Service Stores. It was clear that no Sloville tradesman would vote for him. He had declined to pay the expenses of local Liberals, and in disgust they had hawked about the borough to anyone who would come down handsomely on their behalf. The managers of the party were in despair. Happily Sir Watkin Strahan offered them his services. He had property in the borough. His family were always good to the poor, and as a racing and betting man he was popular with the sporting fraternity. Sir Watkin was accepted as a matter of course.

A day or two after the dissolution of Parliament had been announced, as Wentworth was breakfasting in his solitary chambers in Clifford's Inn, slowly reading the morning papers, and meditating out of what material he could make best a leader, he heard a rap at the door. Opening it, a stranger met his view-tall, aristocratic, well dressed, in the prime of life, with the air and appearance of a gentleman.

'You're Mr. Wentworth, I believe,' he said.

'That's my name, sir.'

'I am Sir Watkin Strahan,' was the reply, as he handed his card to Wentworth.

'Pray walk in, Sir Watkin.'

Sir Watkin complied with the request.

Taking a chair, and lighting a cigar offered him by Wentworth, who did the same, the stranger continued:

'I am commissioned to call on you by Mr. Blank,' naming the proprietor of a morning journal with which Mr. Wentworth was connected. 'The fact is, we are on the eve of a General Election.'

'I am perfectly aware of that,' said Wentworth, smiling.

'Undoubtedly; and I come to solicit your aid.'

'How can I help you?'

'Why, the fact is, I am anxious for a seat in Parliament.'

'For what purpose: public or private?'

'Why, Mr. Wentworth, how can you ask? I am a Liberal.'

'And, then, are all Liberals public spirited, and not averse to feathering their own nest when they have a chance?'

'Well, you know,' replied the Baronet, 'our party always aim at the public good.'

'Yes; but professions and practice don't always harmonize. Sometimes private interest draws one way, and public duty points another.'

Sir Watkin coloured. He had consented to fight Sloville in the Liberal interest, but he had made a bargain on the subject with his party, and Wentworth's casual remark had gone home.

Wentworth continued:

'In what way can I help you, Sir Watkin?'

'Mr. Blank tells me that you know something of Sloville.'

'Very little, indeed. I was there a short while some years ago. That is all. I doubt whether I can do you any good there.'

'Oh yes, you can. I recollect hearing you speak on the night of the Chartist meeting, and upon my word you spoke out well. There are many who still remember that speech.'

'Yes; but it did not gain me many friends.'

'Well, it was talked about for a good while after.'

'Do you want me to repeat it?'

'Not exactly, but I am not much of a speaker myself, and I want a clever man like yourself to be by my side, and speak now and then on my behalf.

Of course I should be prepared to pay handsomely for such a.s.sistance.'

'I am much obliged for the offer. Of course I feel complimented by it,'

said Wentworth; 'but I fear that sort of thing is not much in my line.

Indeed, I hear so much oratory that I am sick of it, and have come to regard an orator as a personal enemy, who really desires to do me wrong.

In the heat of the moment an orator is apt to forget himself, to fling charges against his opponents which he cannot justify, and make promises to the people which he cannot perform. I fear a good deal of humbug goes on when there is much oratory, and that a man who gets into a habit of public speaking later on becomes a humbug himself. At any rate, I know this is true of some of our London popular orators. You may be better in the country. It is to be hoped you are.'

'As to oratory, we are very badly off. And that is the real reason,'

said Sir Watkin, 'why I came to you. I am not, as I have said, much of a speaker myself. Whereas my Conservative opponent is a clever barrister, with a tremendous gift of gab.'

'Yes, that is it. You ought to go to a barrister and take him down with you. So long as a barrister is well paid he is ready to speak on any side.'

'But there are difficulties which I fear will prevent my doing that. I want a novelty-a newspaper man, in fact. Lawyers have such a professional style of talking. They deceive no one; no one believes them. If a lawyer ever does by accident make a good speech it carries no weight with it. It is expected as a matter of course. If a lawyer can't talk we don't think much of him or his law, and then there is another reason.'

'What is that?' said Wentworth, lazily puffing his cigar.

'Lawyers ain't popular at Sloville with the Radicals. They say that our present law is a disgrace to the country, and that as long as we fill the House with lawyers, we shall never get a proper measure of law reform.

In our town the people are very much opposed to lawyers and parsons.'

'Very wrong of them,' said Wentworth ironically.

'Very wrong, indeed,' replied the Baronet; 'but we must take people as we find them, and act accordingly. It is no use sending down a lawyer to fight for me. The people would not go to hear him. Their last representative won by the aid of a lawyer, and they won't stand another.'

'But, then, in London there are no end of men who pa.s.s themselves off as working-men politicians, though it is precious little work they do. I believe they are to be had at a very moderate figure, and they can do the roaring part of the business first-rate. They are always trotted out when the Liberals want to get up a grand demonstration, more especially when the Conservatives are in place and power. Had not you better take one or two of them down with you? They'll be sure to fetch the rest.'