The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXIV.

  THE ELECTION.

  Mr. Alf's central committee-room was in Great George Street, andthere the battle was kept alive all the day. It had been decided, asthe reader has been told, that no direct advantage should be takenof that loud blast of accusation which had been heard throughout thetown on the previous afternoon. There had not been sufficient timefor inquiry as to the truth of that blast. If there were just groundfor the things that had been said, Mr. Melmotte would no doubt soonbe in gaol, or would be--wanted. Many had thought that he wouldescape as soon as the dinner was over, and had been disappointedwhen they heard that he had been seen walking down towards his owncommittee-room on the following morning. Others had been told that atthe last moment his name would be withdrawn,--and a question aroseas to whether he had the legal power to withdraw his name after acertain hour on the day before the ballot. An effort was made toconvince a portion of the electors that he had withdrawn, or wouldhave withdrawn, or should have withdrawn. When Melmotte was at CoventGarden, a large throng of men went to Whitehall Place with the viewof ascertaining the truth. He certainly had made no attempt atwithdrawal. They who propagated this report certainly damaged Mr.Alf's cause. A second reaction set in, and there grew a feeling thatMr. Melmotte was being ill-used. Those evil things had been saidof him,--many at least so declared,--not from any true motive, butsimply to secure Mr. Alf's return. Tidings of the speech in CoventGarden were spread about at the various polling places, and didgood service to the so-called Conservative cause. Mr. Alf's friends,hearing all this, instigated him also to make a speech. Somethingshould be said, if only that it might be reported in the newspapers,to show that they had behaved with generosity, instead of havinginjured their enemy by false attacks. Whatever Mr. Alf might say, hemight at any rate be sure of a favourable reporter.

  About two o'clock in the day, Mr. Alf did make a speech,--and a verygood speech it was, if correctly reported in the "Evening Pulpit."Mr. Alf was a clever man, ready at all points, with all his powersimmediately at command, and, no doubt, he did make a good speech.But in this speech, in which we may presume that it would be hisintention to convince the electors that they ought to return him toParliament, because, of the two candidates, he was the fittest torepresent their views, he did not say a word as to his own politicalideas, not, indeed, a word that could be accepted as manifestinghis own fitness for the place which it was his ambition to fill. Hecontented himself with endeavouring to show that the other man wasnot fit;--and that he and his friends, though solicitous of provingto the electors that Mr. Melmotte was about the most unfit man in theworld, had been guilty of nothing shabby in their manner of doing so."Mr. Melmotte," he said, "comes before you as a Conservative, andhas told us, by the mouths of his friends,--for he has not favouredus with many words of his own,--that he is supported by the wholeConservative party. That party is not my party, but I respect it.Where, however, are these Conservative supporters? We have heard,till we are sick of it, of the banquet which Mr. Melmotte gaveyesterday. I am told that very few of those whom he calls hisConservative friends could be induced to attend that banquet. It isequally notorious that the leading merchants of the City refusedto grace the table of this great commercial prince. I say that theleaders of the Conservative party have at last found their candidateout, have repudiated him;--and are seeking now to free themselvesfrom the individual shame of having supported the candidature of sucha man by remaining in their own houses instead of clustering roundthe polling booths. Go to Mr. Melmotte's committee-room and inquireif those leading Conservatives be there. Look about, and see whetherthey are walking with him in the streets, or standing with him inpublic places, or taking the air with him in the parks. I respectthe leaders of the Conservative party; but they have made a mistakein this matter, and they know it." Then he ended by alluding to therumours of yesterday. "I scorn," said he, "to say anything againstthe personal character of a political opponent, which I am not ina position to prove. I make no allusion, and have made no allusion,to reports which were circulated yesterday about him, and which Ibelieve were originated in the City. They may be false or they maybe true. As I know nothing of the matter, I prefer to regard them asfalse, and I recommend you to do the same. But I declared to you longbefore these reports were in men's mouths, that Mr. Melmotte wasnot entitled by his character to represent you in parliament, and Irepeat that assertion. A great British merchant, indeed! How long, doyou think, should a man be known in this city before that title beaccorded to him? Who knew aught of this man two years since,--unless,indeed, it be some one who had burnt his wings in trafficking withhim in some continental city? Ask the character of this great Britishmerchant in Hamburg and Vienna; ask it in Paris;--ask those whosebusiness here has connected them with the assurance companies offoreign countries, and you will be told whether this is a fit man torepresent Westminster in the British parliament!" There was much moreyet; but such was the tone of the speech which Mr. Alf made with theobject of inducing the electors to vote for himself.

  At two or three o'clock in the day, nobody knew how the matter wasgoing. It was supposed that the working-classes were in favour ofMelmotte, partly from their love of a man who spends a great deal ofmoney, partly from the belief that he was being ill-used,--partly, nodoubt, from that occult sympathy which is felt for crime, when thecrime committed is injurious to the upper classes. Masses of men willalmost feel that a certain amount of injustice ought to be inflictedon their betters, so as to make things even, and will persuadethemselves that a criminal should be declared to be innocent, becausethe crime committed has had a tendency to oppress the rich and pulldown the mighty from their seats. Some few years since, the basestcalumnies that were ever published in this country, uttered by oneof the basest men that ever disgraced the country, levelled, for themost part, at men of whose characters and services the country wasproud, were received with a certain amount of sympathy by men notthemselves dishonest, because they who were thus slandered hadreceived so many good things from Fortune, that a few evil thingswere thought to be due to them. There had not as yet been timefor the formation of such a feeling generally, in respect of Mr.Melmotte. But there was a commencement of it. It had been assertedthat Melmotte was a public robber. Whom had he robbed? Not the poor.There was not a man in London who caused the payment of a larger sumin weekly wages than Mr. Melmotte.

  About three o'clock, the editor of the "Morning Breakfast Table"called on Lady Carbury. "What is it all about?" she asked, as soonas her friend was seated. There had been no time for him to explainanything at Madame Melmotte's reception, and Lady Carbury had as yetfailed in learning any certain news of what was going on.

  "I don't know what to make of it," said Mr. Broune. "There is a storyabroad that Mr. Melmotte has forged some document with reference toa purchase he made,--and hanging on to that story are other storiesas to moneys that he has raised. I should say that it was simply anelectioneering trick, and a very unfair trick, were it not that allhis own side seem to believe it."

  "Do you believe it?"

  "Ah,--I could answer almost any question sooner than that."

  "Then he can't be rich at all."

  "Even that would not follow. He has such large concerns in hand thathe might be very much pressed for funds, and yet be possessed ofimmense wealth. Everybody says that he pays all his bills."

  "Will he be returned?" she asked.

  "From what we hear, we think not. I shall know more about it in anhour or two. At present I should not like to have to publish anopinion; but were I forced to bet, I would bet against him. Nobody isdoing anything for him. There can be no doubt that his own party areashamed of him. As things used to be, this would have been fatal tohim at the day of election; but now, with the ballot, it won't matterso much. If I were a candidate, at present, I think I would go to bedon the last day, and beg all my committee to do the same as soon asthey had put in their voting papers."

  "I am glad Felix did not go to Liverpool," said Lady Carbury.


  "It would not have made much difference. She would have been broughtback all the same. They say Lord Nidderdale still means to marryher."

  "I saw him talking to her last night."

  "There must be an immense amount of property somewhere. No one doubtsthat he was rich when he came to England two years ago, and theysay everything has prospered that he has put his hand to since. TheMexican Railway shares had fallen this morning, but they were at L15premium yesterday morning. He must have made an enormous deal outof that." But Mr. Broune's eloquence on this occasion was chieflydisplayed in regard to the presumption of Mr. Alf. "I shouldn't thinkhim such a fool if he had announced his resignation of the editorshipwhen he came before the world as a candidate for parliament. But aman must be mad who imagines that he can sit for Westminster and edita London daily paper at the same time."

  "Has it never been done?"

  "Never, I think;--that is, by the editor of such a paper as the'Pulpit.' How is a man who sits in parliament himself ever to pretendto discuss the doings of parliament with impartiality? But Alfbelieves that he can do more than anybody else ever did, and he'llcome to the ground. Where's Felix now?"

  "Do not ask me," said the poor mother.

  "Is he doing anything?"

  "He lies in bed all day, and is out all night."

  "But that wants money." She only shook her head. "You do not give himany?"

  "I have none to give."

  "I should simply take the key of the house from him,--or bolt thedoor if he will not give it up."

  "And be in bed, and listen while he knocks,--knowing that he mustwander in the streets if I refuse to let him in? A mother cannot dothat, Mr. Broune. A child has such a hold upon his mother. When herreason has bade her to condemn him, her heart will not let her carryout the sentence." Mr. Broune never now thought of kissing LadyCarbury; but when she spoke thus, he got up and took her hand, andshe, as she pressed his hand, had no fear that she would be kissed.The feeling between them was changed.

  Melmotte dined at home that evening with no company but that of hiswife and daughter. Latterly one of the Grendalls had almost alwaysjoined their party when they did not dine out. Indeed, it was anunderstood thing, that Miles Grendall should dine there always,unless he explained his absence by some engagement,--so that hispresence there had come to be considered as a part of his duty.Not unfrequently "Alfred" and Miles would both come, as Melmotte'sdinners and wines were good, and occasionally the father would takethe son's place,--but on this day they were both absent. MadameMelmotte had not as yet said a word to any one indicating her ownapprehension of any evil. But not a person had called to-day,--theday after the great party,--and even she, though she was naturallycallous in such matters, had begun to think that she was deserted.She had, too, become so used to the presence of the Grendalls, thatshe now missed their company. She thought that on this day, of alldays, when the world was balloting for her husband at Westminster,they would both have been with him to discuss the work of the day."Is not Mr. Grendall coming?" she asked, as she took her seat at thetable.

  "No, he is not," said Melmotte.

  "Nor Lord Alfred?"

  "Nor Lord Alfred." Melmotte had returned home much comforted by theday's proceedings. No one had dared to say a harsh word to his face.Nothing further had reached his ears. After leaving the bank he hadgone back to his office, and had written letters,--just as if nothinghad happened; and, as far as he could judge, his clerks had pluckedup courage. One of them, about five o'clock, came into him with newsfrom the west, and with second editions of the evening papers. Theclerk expressed his opinion that the election was going well. Mr.Melmotte, judging from the papers, one of which was supposed to beon his side and the other of course against him, thought that hisaffairs altogether were looking well. The Westminster election hadnot the foremost place in his thoughts; but he took what was said onthat subject as indicating the minds of men upon the other matter. Heread Alf's speech, and consoled himself with thinking that Mr. Alfhad not dared to make new accusations against him. All that aboutHamburgh and Vienna and Paris was as old as the hills, and availednothing. His whole candidature had been carried in the face of that."I think we shall do pretty well," he said to the clerk. His verypresence in Abchurch Lane of course gave confidence. And thus, whenhe came home, something of the old arrogance had come back upon him,and he could swagger at any rate before his wife and servants. "NorLord Alfred," he said with scorn. Then he added more. "The father andson are two d---- curs." This of course frightened Madame Melmotte,and she joined this desertion of the Grendalls to her own solitudeall the day.

  "Is there anything wrong, Melmotte?" she said afterwards, creeping upto him in the back parlour, and speaking in French.

  "What do you call wrong?"

  "I don't know;--but I seem to be afraid of something."

  "I should have thought you were used to that kind of feeling by thistime."

  "Then there is something."

  "Don't be a fool. There is always something. There is always much.You don't suppose that this kind of thing can be carried on assmoothly as the life of an old maid with L400 a year paid quarterlyin advance."

  "Shall we have to--move again?" she asked.

  "How am I to tell? You haven't much to do when we move, and may getplenty to eat and drink wherever you go. Does that girl mean tomarry Lord Nidderdale?" Madame Melmotte shook her head. "What a poorcreature you must be when you can't talk her out of a fancy for sucha reprobate as young Carbury. If she throws me over, I'll throw herover. I'll flog her within an inch of her life if she disobeys me.You tell her that I say so."

  "Then he may flog me," said Marie, when so much of the conversationwas repeated to her that evening. "Papa does not know me if he thinksthat I'm to be made to marry a man by flogging." No such attempt wasat any rate made that night, for the father and husband did not againsee his wife or daughter.

  Early the next day a report was current that Mr. Alf had beenreturned. The numbers had not as yet been counted, or the books madeup;--but that was the opinion expressed. All the morning newspapers,including the "Breakfast Table," repeated this report,--but each gaveit as the general opinion on the matter. The truth would not be knowntill seven or eight o'clock in the evening. The Conservative papersdid not scruple to say that the presumed election of Mr. Alf wasowing to a sudden declension in the confidence originally felt in Mr.Melmotte. The "Breakfast Table," which had supported Mr. Melmotte'scandidature, gave no reason, and expressed more doubt on the resultthan the other papers. "We know not how such an opinion formsitself," the writer said;--"but it seems to have been formed. Asnothing as yet is really known, or can be known, we express noopinion of our own upon the matter."

  Mr. Melmotte again went into the City, and found that things seemedto have returned very much into their usual grooves. The MexicanRailway shares were low, and Mr. Cohenlupe was depressed in spiritsand unhappy;--but nothing dreadful had occurred or seemed to bethreatened. If nothing dreadful did occur, the railway shares wouldprobably recover, or nearly recover, their position. In the course ofthe day, Melmotte received a letter from Messrs. Slow and Bideawhile,which, of itself, certainly contained no comfort;--but there wascomfort to be drawn even from that letter, by reason of what it didnot contain. The letter was unfriendly in its tone and peremptory. Ithad come evidently from a hostile party. It had none of the feelingwhich had hitherto prevailed in the intercourse between these twowell-known Conservative gentlemen, Mr. Adolphus Longestaffe and Mr.Augustus Melmotte. But there was no allusion in it to forgery; noquestion of criminal proceedings; no hint at aught beyond the notunnatural desire of Mr. Longestaffe and Mr. Longestaffe's son to bepaid for the property at Pickering which Mr. Melmotte had purchased.

  "We have to remind you," said the letter, in continuation ofparagraphs which had contained simply demands for the money, "thatthe title-deeds were delivered to you on receipt by us of authorityto that effect from the Messrs. Longestaffe, father and son, on theunderstanding that the purchase-mone
y was to be at once paid to usby you. We are informed that the property has been since mortgagedby you. We do not state this as a fact. But the information, whethertrue or untrue, forces upon us the necessity of demanding that youshould at once pay to us the purchase-money,--L80,000,--or elsereturn to us the title-deeds of the estate."

  This letter, which was signed Slow and Bideawhile, declaredpositively that the title-deeds had been given up on authorityreceived by them from both the Longestaffes,--father and son. Nowthe accusation brought against Melmotte, as far as he could as yetunderstand it, was that he had forged the signature to the young Mr.Longestaffe's letter. Messrs. Slow and Bideawhile were therefore onhis side. As to the simple debt, he cared little comparatively aboutthat. Many fine men were walking about London who owed large sums ofmoney which they could not pay.

  As he was sitting at his solitary dinner this evening,--for both hiswife and daughter had declined to join him, saying that they haddined early,--news was brought to him that he had been elected forWestminster. He had beaten Mr. Alf by something not much less than athousand votes.

  It was very much to be member for Westminster. So much had at anyrate been achieved by him who had begun the world without a shillingand without a friend,--almost without education! Much as he lovedmoney, and much as he loved the spending of money, and much as he hadmade and much as he had spent, no triumph of his life had been sogreat to him as this. Brought into the world in a gutter, withoutfather or mother, with no good thing ever done for him, he was nowa member of the British Parliament, and member for one of the firstcities in the empire. Ignorant as he was he understood the magnitudeof the achievement, and dismayed as he was as to his presentposition, still at this moment he enjoyed keenly a certain amountof elation. Of course he had committed forgery;--of course he hadcommitted robbery. That, indeed, was nothing, for he had beencheating and forging and stealing all his life. Of course he was indanger of almost immediate detection and punishment. He hardly hopedthat the evil day would be very much longer protracted, and yet heenjoyed his triumph. Whatever they might do, quick as they mightbe, they could hardly prevent his taking his seat in the Houseof Commons. Then if they sent him to penal servitude for life,they would have to say that they had so treated the member forWestminster!

  He drank a bottle of claret, and then got some brandy-and-water.In such troubles as were coming upon him now, he would hardlyget sufficient support from wine. He knew that he had better notdrink;--that is, he had better not drink, supposing the world tobe free to him for his own work and his own enjoyment. But if theworld were no longer free to him, if he were really coming to penalservitude and annihilation,--then why should he not drink while thetime lasted? An hour of triumphant joy might be an eternity to a man,if the man's imagination were strong enough to make him so regard hishour. He therefore took his brandy-and-water freely, and as he tookit he was able to throw his fears behind him, and to assure himselfthat, after all, he might even yet escape from his bondages. No;--hewould drink no more. This he said to himself as he filled anotherbeaker. He would work instead. He would put his shoulder to thewheel, and would yet conquer his enemies. It would not be so easy toconvict a member for Westminster,--especially if money were spentfreely. Was he not the man who, at his own cost, had entertained theEmperor of China? Would not that be remembered in his favour? Wouldnot men be unwilling to punish the man who had received at his owntable all the Princes of the land, and the Prime Minister, and allthe Ministers? To convict him would be a national disgrace. He fullyrealised all this as he lifted the glass to his mouth, and puffed outthe smoke in large volumes through his lips. But money must be spent!Yes;--money must be had! Cohenlupe certainly had money. Though hesqueezed it out of the coward's veins he would have it. At any rate,he would not despair. There was a fight to be fought yet, and hewould fight it to the end. Then he took a deep drink, and slowly,with careful and almost solemn steps, he made his way up to his bed.