Autobiography of Anthony Trollope

by Anthony Trollope

  unless by chance, he can work his way up to the top of the tree.

  In short, he must be a practical man. Now I knew that in politics

  I could never become a practical man. I should never be satisfied

  with a soft word from the Chancellor of the Exchequer, but would

  always be flinging my overtaxed ketchup in his face.

  Nor did it seem to me to be possible that I should ever become a

  good speaker. I had no special gifts that way, and had not studied

  the art early enough in life to overcome natural difficulties. I

  had found that, with infinite labour, I could learn a few sentences

  by heart, and deliver them, monotonously indeed, but clearly. Or,

  again, if there were something special to be said, I could say it

  in a commonplace fashion--but always as though I were in a hurry,

  and with the fear before me of being thought to be prolix. But I

  had no power of combining, as a public speaker should always do,

  that which I had studied with that which occurred to me at the

  moment. It must be all lesson,--which I found to be best; or else

  all impromptu,--which was very bad, indeed, unless I had something

  special on my mind. I was thus aware that I could do no good by

  going into Parliament--that the time for it, if there could have

  been a time, had gone by. But still I had an almost insane desire

  to sit there, and be able to assure myself that my uncle's scorn

  had not been deserved.

  In 1867 it had been suggested to me that, in the event of a dissolution,

  I should stand for one division of the County of Essex; and I had

  promised that I would do so, though the promise at that time was

  as rash a one as a man could make. I was instigated to this by the

  late Charles Buxton, a man whom I greatly loved, and who was very

  anxious that the county for which his brother had sat, and with

  which the family were connected, should be relieved from what he

  regarded as the thraldom of Toryism. But there was no dissolution

  then. Mr. Disraeli passed his Reform Bill, by the help of the

  Liberal member for Newark, and the summoning of a new Parliament

  was postponed till the next year. By this new Reform Bill Essex

  was portioned out into three instead of two electoral divisions,

  one of which,--that adjacent to London,--would, it was thought,

  be altogether Liberal. After the promise which I had given,

  the performance of which would have cost me a large sum of money

  absolutely in vain, it was felt by some that I should be selected

  as one of the candidates for the new division--and as such I was

  proposed by Mr. Charles Buxton. But another gentleman, who would

  have been bound by previous pledges to support me, was put forward

  by what I believe to have been the defeating interest, and I had

  to give way. At the election this gentleman, with another Liberal,

  who had often stood for the county, was returned without a contest.

  Alas! alas! They were both unseated at the next election, when the

  great Conservative reaction took place.

  In the spring of 1868 I was sent to the United States on a postal

  mission, of which I will speak presently. While I was absent the

  dissolution took place. On my return I was somewhat too late to

  look out for a seat, but I had friends who knew the weakness of my

  ambition; and it was not likely, therefore, that I should escape

  the peril of being put forward for some impossible borough as to

  which the Liberal party would not choose that it should go to the

  Conservatives without a struggle. At last, after one or two others,

  Beverley was proposed to me, and to Beverley I went.

  I must, however, exculpate the gentleman who acted as my agent, from

  undue persuasion exercised towards me. He was a man who thoroughly

  understood Parliament, having sat there himself--and he sits there

  now at this moment. He understood Yorkshire,--or, at least, the

  East Riding of Yorkshire, in which Beverley is situated,--certainly

  better than any one alive. He understood all the mysteries of

  canvassing, and he knew well the traditions, the condition, and the

  prospect of the Liberal party. I will not give his name, but they

  who knew Yorkshire in 1868 will not be at a loss to find it. "So,"

  said he, "you are going to stand for Beverley?" I replied gravely

  that I was thinking of doing so. "You don't expect to get in?" he

  said. Again I was grave. I would not, I said, be sanguine, but,

  nevertheless, I was disposed to hope for the best. "Oh, no!"

  continued he, with good-humoured raillery, "you won't get in. I

  don't suppose you really expect it. But there is a fine career open

  to you. You will spend (pounds)1000, and lose the election. Then you will

  petition, and spend another (pounds)1000. You will throw out the elected

  members. There will be a commission, and the borough will be

  disfranchised. For a beginner such as you are, that will be a great

  success." And yet, in the teeth of this, from a man who knew all

  about it, I persisted in going to Beverley!

  The borough, which returned two members, had long been represented

  by Sir Henry Edwards, of whom, I think, I am justified in saying

  that he had contracted a close intimacy with it for the sake of

  the seat. There had been many contests, many petitions, many void

  elections, many members, but, through it all, Sir Henry had kept

  his seat, if not with permanence, yet with a fixity of tenure next

  door to permanence. I fancy that with a little management between

  the parties the borough might at this time have returned a member

  of each colour quietly; but there were spirits there who did not

  love political quietude, and it was at last decided that there

  should be two Liberal and two Conservative candidates. Sir Henry

  was joined by a young man of fortune in quest of a seat, and I was

  grouped with Mr. Maxwell, the eldest son of Lord Herries, a Scotch

  Roman Catholic peer, who lives in the neighbourhood.

  When the time came I went down to canvass, and spent, I think, the

  most wretched fortnight of my manhood. In the first place, I was

  subject to a bitter tyranny from grinding vulgar tyrants. They were

  doing what they could, or said that they were doing so, to secure

  me a seat in Parliament, and I was to be in their hands, at any

  rate, the period of my candidature. On one day both of us, Mr.

  Maxwell and I, wanted to go out hunting. We proposed to ourselves

  but the one holiday during this period of intense labour; but I

  was assured, as was he also, by a publican who was working for us,

  that if we committed such a crime he and all Beverley would desert

  us. From morning to evening every day I was taken round the lanes

  and by-ways of that uninteresting town, canvassing every voter,

  exposed to the rain, up to my knees in slush, and utterly unable

  to assume that air of triumphant joy with which a jolly, successful

  candidate should he invested. At night, every night I had to

  speak somewhere,--which was bad; and to listen to the speaking of

  others,--which was much worse. When, on one Sunday, I proposed to

  go to the Minster Church, I was told that w
as quite useless, as

  the Church party were all certain to support Sir Henry! "Indeed,"

  said the publican, my tyrant, "he goes there in a kind of official

  profession, and you had better not allow yourself to be seen in the

  same place." So I stayed away and omitted my prayers. No Church of

  England church in Beverley would on such an occasion have welcomed

  a Liberal candidate. I felt myself to be a kind of pariah in the

  borough, to whom was opposed all that was pretty, and all that was

  nice, and all that was--ostensibly--good.

  But perhaps my strongest sense of discomfort arose from the conviction

  that my political ideas were all leather and prunella to the men

  whose votes I was soliciting. They cared nothing for my doctrines,

  and could not be made to understand that I should have any. I had

  been brought to Beverley either to beat Sir Henry Edwards,--which,

  however, no one probably thought to be feasible,--or to cause him

  the greatest possible amount of trouble, inconvenience, and expense.

  There were, indeed, two points on which a portion of my wished-for

  supporters seemed to have opinions, and on both these two points

  I was driven by my opinions to oppose them. Some were anxious for

  the Ballot,--which had not then become law,--and some desired the

  Permissive Bill. I hated, and do hate, both these measures, thinking

  it to be unworthy of a great people to free itself from the evil

  results of vicious conduct by unmanly restraints. Undue influence

  on voters is a great evil from which this country had already done

  much to emancipate itself by extending electoral divisions and by

  an increase of independent feeling. These, I thought, and not secret

  voting, were the weapons by which electoral intimidation should be

  overcome. And as for drink, I believe in no Parlimentary restraint;

  but I do believe in the gradual effect of moral teaching and

  education. But a Liberal, to do any good at Beverley, should have

  been able to swallow such gnats as those. I would swallow nothing,

  and was altogether the wrong man.

  I knew, from the commencement of my candidature, how it would be.

  Of course that well-trained gentleman who condescended to act as

  my agent, had understood the case, and I ought to have taken his

  thoroughly kind advice. He had seen it all, and had told himself

  that it was wrong that one so innocent in such ways as I, so

  utterly unable to fight such a battle, should be carried down into

  Yorkshire merely to spend money and to be annoyed. He could not

  have said more than he did say, and I suffered for my obstinacy. Of

  course I was not elected. Sir Henry Edwards and his comrade became

  members for Beverley, and I was at the bottom of the poll. I paid

  (pounds)400 for my expenses, and then returned to London.

  My friendly agent in his raillery had of course exaggerated the

  cost. He had, when I arrived at Beverley, asked me for a cheque

  for (pounds)400, and told me that that sum would suffice. It did suffice.

  How it came to pass that exactly that sum should be required I never

  knew, but such was the case. Then there came a petition,--not from

  me, but from the town. The inquiry was made, the two gentlemen

  were unseated, the borough was disfranchised, Sir Henry Edwards

  was put on his trial for some kind of Parliamentary offence and

  was acquitted. In this way Beverley's privilege as a borough and

  my Parliamentary ambition were brought to an end at the same time.

  When I knew the result I did not altogether regret it. It may be

  that Beverley might have been brought to political confusion and

  Sir Henry Edwards relegated to private life without the expenditure

  of my hard-earned money, and without that fortnight of misery; but

  connecting the things together, as it was natural that I should

  do, I did flatter myself that I had done some good. It had seemed

  to me that nothing could be worse, nothing more unpatriotic, nothing

  more absolutely opposed to the system of representative government,

  than the time-honoured practices of the borough of Beverley. It had

  come to pass that political cleanliness was odious to the citizens.

  There was something grand in the scorn with which a leading Liberal

  there turned up his nose at me when I told him that there should

  be no bribery, no treating, not even a pot of beer on one side.

  It was a matter for study to see how at Beverley politics were

  appreciated because they might subserve electoral purposes, and

  how little it was understood that electoral purposes, which are in

  themselves a nuisance, should be endured in order that they may

  subserve politics. And then the time, the money, the mental energy,

  which had been expended in making the borough a secure seat for

  a gentleman who had realised the idea that it would become him to

  be a member of Parliament! This use of the borough seemed to be

  realised and approved in the borough generally. The inhabitants

  had taught themselves to think that it was for such purposes that

  boroughs were intended! To have assisted in putting an end to this,

  even in one town, was to a certain extent a satisfaction.

  CHAPTER XVII THE AMERICAN POSTAL TREATY--THE QUESTION 0F COPYRIGHT WITH AMERICA--FOUR MORE NOVELS

  In the spring of 1868,--before the affair of Beverley, which,

  as being the first direct result of my resignation of office, has

  been brought in a little out of its turn,--I was requested to go

  over to the United States and make a postal treaty at Washington.

  This, as I had left the service, I regarded as a compliment, and

  of course I went. It was my third visit to America, and I have made

  two since. As far as the Post Office work was concerned, it was

  very far from being agreeable. I found myself located at Washington,

  a place I do not love, and was harassed by delays, annoyed by

  incompetence, and opposed by what I felt to be personal and not

  national views. I had to deal with two men,--with one who was a

  working officer of the American Post Office, than whom I have never

  met a more zealous, or, as far as I could judge, a more honest

  public servant. He had his views and I had mine, each of us having

  at heart the welfare of the service in regard to his own country,--each

  of us also having certain orders which we were bound to obey. But

  the other gentleman, who was in rank the superior,--whose executive

  position was dependent on his official status, as is the case with

  our own Ministers,--did not recommend himself to me equally. He

  would make appointments with me and then not keep them, which at

  last offended me so grievously, that I declared at the Washington

  Post Office that if this treatment were continued, I would write

  home to say that any further action on my part was impossible. I

  think I should have done so had it not occurred to me that I might

  in this way serve his purpose rather than my own, or the purposes

  of those who had sent me. The treaty, however, was at last made,--the

  purport of which was, that everything possible should be done, at

  a heavy expenditure on the part of England, to expedite the mail
s

  from England to America, and that nothing should be done by America

  to expedite the mails from thence to us. The expedition I believe

  to be now equal both ways; but it could not be maintained as it is

  without the payment of a heavy subsidy from Great Britain, whereas

  no subsidy is paid by the States. [Footnote: This was a state of

  things which may probably have appeared to American politicians

  to be exactly that which they should try to obtain. The whole

  arrangement has again been altered since the time of which I have

  spoken.]

  I had also a commission from the Foreign Office, for which I had

  asked, to make an effort on behalf of an international copyright

  between the United States and Great Britain,--the want of which is

  the one great impediment to pecuniary success which still stands

  in the way of successful English authors. I cannot say that I have

  never had a shilling of American money on behalf of reprints of my

  work; but I have been conscious of no such payment. Having found

  many years ago--in 1861, when I made a struggle on the subject,

  being then in the States, the details of which are sufficiently

  amusing [Footnote: In answer to a question from myself, a certain

  American publisher--he who usually reprinted my works--promised me

  that IF ANY OTHER AMERICAN PUBLISHER REPUBLISHED MY WORK ON AMERICA

  BEFORE HE HAD DONE SO, he would not bring out a competing edition,

  though there would be no law to hinder him. I then entered into an

  agreement with another American publisher, stipulating to supply

  him with early sheets; and he stipulating to supply me a certain

  royalty on his sales, and to supply me with accounts half-yearly.

  I sent the sheets with energetic punctuality, and the work was

  brought out with equal energy and precision--by my old American

  publishers. The gentleman who made the promise had not broken his

  word. No other American edition had come out before his. I never

  got any account, and, of course, never received a dollar.]--that

  I could not myself succeed in dealing with American booksellers, I

  have sold all foreign right to the English publishers; and though

  I do not know that I have raised my price against them on that

  score, I may in this way have had some indirect advantage from