“I don’t know that.”
“Gresham tells me there isn’t a doubt about it. Think of that. Fix your mind upon it. Don’t take it only as an accident, but as the thing you’re to live for. If you’ll do that—if you’ll so manage that there shall be something to be done in Parliament which only you can do, you won’t ride a runaway horse as you did that brute today.” Arthur looked up into his brother’s face almost weeping. “We expect much of you, you know. I’m not a man to do anything except be a good steward for the family property, and keep the old house from falling down. You’re a clever fellow—so that between us, if we both do our duty, the Fletchers may still thrive in the land. My house shall be your house, and my wife your wife, and my children your children. And then the honour you win shall be my honour. Hold up your head—and sell that beast.” Arthur Fletcher squeezed his brother’s hand and went away to dress.
XXXIV
The Silverbridge Election
About a month after this affair with the runaway horse Arthur Fletcher went to Greshamsbury, preparatory to his final sojourn at Silverbridge for the week previous to his election. Greshamsbury, the seat of Francis Gresham, Esq., who was a great man in these parts, was about twenty miles from Silverbridge, and the tedious work of canvassing the electors could not therefore be done from thence;—but he spent a couple of pleasant days with his old friend, and learned what was being said and what was being done in and about the borough. Mr. Gresham was a man, not as yet quite forty years of age, very popular, with a large family, of great wealth, and master of the county hounds. His father had been an embarrassed man, with a large estate; but this Gresham had married a lady with immense wealth, and had prospered in the world. He was not an active politician. He did not himself care for Parliament, or for the good things which political power can give, and was on this account averse to the Coalition. He thought that Sir Orlando Drought and the others were touching pitch and had defiled themselves. But he was conscious that in so thinking he was one of but a small minority; and, bad as the world around him certainly was, terrible as had been the fall of the glory of old England, he was nevertheless content to live without loud grumbling as long as the farmers paid him their rent, and the labourers in his part of the country did not strike for wages, and the land when sold would fetch thirty years’ purchase. He had not therefore been careful to ascertain that Arthur Fletcher would pledge himself to oppose the Coalition before he proffered his assistance in this matter of the borough. It would not be easy to find such a candidate, or perhaps possible to bring him in when found. The Fletchers had always been good Conservatives, and were proper people to be in Parliament. A Conservative in Parliament is, of course, obliged to promote a great many things which he does not really approve. Mr. Gresham quite understood that. You can’t have tests and qualifications, rotten boroughs and the divine right of kings, back again. But as the glorious institutions of the country are made to perish, one after the other, it is better that they should receive the coup de grâce tenderly from loving hands than be roughly throttled by Radicals. Mr. Gresham would thank his stars that he could still preserve foxes down in his own country, instead of doing any of this dirty work—for let the best be made of such work, still it was dirty—and was willing, now as always, to give his assistance, and if necessary to spend a little money, to put a Fletcher into Parliament and to keep a Lopez out.
There was to be a third candidate. That was the first news that Fletcher heard. “It will do us all the good in the world,” said Mr. Gresham. “The Rads in the borough are not satisfied with Mr. Lopez. They say they don’t know him. As long as a certain set could make it be believed that he was the Duke’s nominee they were content to accept him;—even though he was not proposed directly by the Duke’s people in the usual way. But the Duke has made himself understood at last. You have seen the Duke’s letter?” Arthur had not seen the Duke’s letter, which had only been published in the Silverbridge Gazette of that week, and he now read it, sitting in Mr. Gresham’s magistrate’s-room, as a certain chamber in the house had been called since the days of the present squire’s great-grandfather.
The Duke’s letter was addressed to his recognised man of business in those parts, and was as follows:—
Carlton Terrace—March, 187‒.
My dear Mr. Moreton,
Mr. Moreton was the successor of one Mr. Fothergill, who had reigned supreme in those parts under the old Duke.
I am afraid that my wishes with regard to the borough and the forthcoming election there of a member of Parliament are not yet clearly understood, although I endeavoured to declare them when I was at Gatherum Castle. I trust that no elector will vote for this or that gentleman with an idea that the return of any special candidate will please me. The ballot will of course prevent me or any other man from knowing how an elector may vote;—but I beg to assure the electors generally that should they think fit to return a member pledged to oppose the Government of which I form a part, it would not in any way change my cordial feelings towards the town. I may perhaps be allowed to add that, in my opinion, no elector can do his duty except by
