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 was 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