Tories dread the restlessness of Radicals, and Radicals are in awe of
the organization of Tories. Beauchamp thought anxiously of the high
degree of confidence existing in the Tory camp, whose chief could
afford to keep aloof, while he slaved all day and half the night to
thump ideas into heads, like a cooper on a cask:—an impassioned cooper
on an empty cask! if such an image is presentable. Even so enviously
sometimes the writer and the barrister, men dependent on their active
wits, regard the man with a business fixed in an office managed by
clerks. That man seems by comparison celestially seated. But he has his
fits of trepidation; for new tastes prevail and new habits are formed,
and the structure of his business will not allow him to adapt himself
to them in a minute. The secure and comfortable have to pay in
occasional panics for the serenity they enjoy. Mr. Seymour Austin
candidly avowed to Colonel Halkett, on his arrival at Mount Laurels,
that he was advised to take up his quarters in the neighbourhood of
Bevisham by a recent report of his committee, describing the young
Radical’s canvass as redoubtable. Cougham he did not fear: he could
make a sort of calculation of the votes for the Liberal thumping on the
old drum of Reform; but the number for him who appealed to feelings and
quickened the romantic sentiments of the common people now huddled
within our electoral penfold, was not calculable. Tory and Radical have
an eye for one another, which overlooks the Liberal at all times except
when he is, as they imagine, playing the game of either of them.
“Now we shall see the passions worked,” Mr. Austin said, deploring the
extension of the franchise.
He asked whether Beauchamp spoke well.
Cecilia left it to her father to reply; but the colonel appealed to
her, saying, “Inclined to dragoon one, isn’t he?”
She did not think that. “He speaks... he speaks well in conversation. I
fancy he would be liked by the poor. I should doubt his being a good
public speaker. He certainly has command of his temper: that is one
thing. I cannot say whether it favours oratory. He is indefatigable.
One may be sure he will not faint by the way. He quite believes in
himself. But, Mr. Austin, do you really regard him as a serious rival?”
Mr. Austin could not tell. No one could tell the effect of an extended
franchise. The untried venture of it depressed him. “Men have come
suddenly on a borough before now and carried it,” he said.
“Not a borough like Bevisham?”
He shook his head. “A fluid borough, I’m afraid.”
Colonel Halkettt interposed: “But Ferbrass is quite sure of his
district.”
Cecilia wished to know who the man was, of the mediaevally sounding
name.
“Ferbrass is an old lawyer, my dear. He comes of five generations of
lawyers, and he’s as old in the county as Grancey Lespel. Hitherto he
has always been to be counted on for marching his district to the poll
like a regiment. That’s our strength—the professions, especially
lawyers.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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