This might be true enough as regarded the freemen,—the men who had been, as it were, educated to political life;—but there was much doubt as to the new voters. There were about a thousand of these in the borough, and it had certainly not been the intention of either party that these men should have the half-crowns. It was from these men and their leaders,—the secretaries and chairmen and presidents,—that had come the cry for a second liberal candidate, and the consequent necessity of putting forward two Conservatives. They were equally odious8 to the supporters of Westmacott and of Griffenbottom. "They must have the half-crowns," Trigger had said to old Pile, the bootmaker. Pile thought that every working man was entitled to the three half-crowns, and said as much very clearly. "I suppose old Griff ain't going to turn Hunks at this time o' day," said Mr. Pile. But the difficulties were endless, and were much better understood by Mr. Trigger than by Mr. Pile. The manner of conveying the half-crowns to the three hundred and twenty-four freemen, who would take them and vote honestly afterwards for Griffenbottom and Underwood, was perfectly9 well understood. But among that godless, riotous10, ungoverned and ungovernable set of new householders, there was no knowing how to act. They would take the money and then vote wrong. They would take the money and then split. The freemen were known. Three hundred and twenty-four would take Griffenbottom's beer and half-crowns. Two hundred and seventy-two would be equally complaisant11 with Mr. Westmacott. But of these householders nothing was known. They could not be handled. Some thirty or forty of them would probably have the turning of the election at the last hour, must then be paid at their own prices, and after that would not be safe! Mr. Trigger, in his disgust, declared that things had got into so vile12 a form that he didn't care if he never had anything to do with an election in Percycross again.
And then there was almost as much ill-feeling between the old-fashioned Griffenbottomites and the Underwooders as there was between Westmacott's Liberals and Moggs's Radicals13. The two gentlemen themselves still eat their breakfasts and dinners together, and still paraded the streets of Percycross in each other's company. But Sir Thomas had made himself very odious even to Mr. Griffenbottom himself. He was always protesting against beer which he did see, and bribery14 which he did not see but did suspect. He swore that he would pay not a shilling, as to which the cause of the expenditure15 was not explained to him. Griffenbottom snarled16 at him, and expressed an opinion that Sir Thomas would of course do the same as any other gentleman. Mr. Trigger, with much dignity in his mien17 as he spoke18, declared that the discussion of any such matter at the present moment was indecorous. Mr. Pile was for sending Sir Thomas back to town, and very strongly advocated that measure. Mr. Spicer, as to whom there was a story abroad in the borough in respect of a large order for mustard, supposed to have reached him from New York through Liverpool by the influence of Sir Thomas Underwood, thought that the borough should return the two conservative candidates. Sir Thomas might be a little indiscreet; but, upon the whole, his principles did him honour. So thought Mr. Spicer, who, perhaps, believed that the order for the mustard was coming. We need hardly say that the story, at any rate in so far as it regarded Sir Thomas Underwood, was altogether untrue. "Yes; principles!" said Mr. Pile. "I think we all know Sam Spicer's principles. All for hisself, and nothing for a poor man. That's Sam Spicer." Of Mr. Pile, it must be acknowledged that he was not a pure-minded politician. He loved bribery in his very heart. But it is equally true that he did not want to be bribed19 himself. It was the old-fashioned privilege of a poor man to receive some small consideration for his vote in Percycross, and Mr. Pile could not endure to think that the poor man should be robbed of his little comforts.
In the meantime, Sir Thomas himself was in a state of great misery20. From hour to hour he was fluctuating between a desire to run away from the accursed borough, and the shame of taking such a step. The desire for the seat which had brought him to Percycross had almost died out amidst the misery of his position. Among all the men of his party with whom he was associating, there was not one whom he did not dislike, and by whom he was not snubbed and contradicted. Griffenbottom, who went through his canvass21 under circumstances of coming gout and colchicum with a courage and pertinacity22 that were heroic, was painfully cross to every one who was not a voter. "What's the use of all that d——d nonsense, now?" he said to Sir Thomas the evening before the nomination day. There were half-a-dozen leading Conservatives in the room, and Sir Thomas was making a final protest against bribery. He rose from his chair when so addressed, and left the room. Never in his life before had he been so insulted. Trigger followed him to his bedroom, knowing well that a quarrel at this moment would be absolutely suicidal. "It's the gout, Sir Thomas," said Mr. Trigger. "Do remember what he's going through." This was so true that Sir Thomas returned to the room. It was almost impossible not to forgive anything in a man who was suffering agonies, but could still wheedle23 a voter. There were three conservative doctors with Mr. Griffenbottom, each of them twice daily; and there was an opinion prevalent through the borough that the gout would be in his stomach before the election was over. Sir Thomas did return to the room, and sat himself down without saying a word. "Sir Thomas," said Mr. Griffenbottom, "a man with the gout is always allowed a little liberty."
"I admit the claim," said Sir Thomas, bowing.
"And believe me, I know this game better than you do. It's of no use saying these things. No man should ever foul24 his own nest. Give me a little drop more brandy, Trigger, and then I'll get myself to bed." When he was gone, they all sang Griffenbottom's praises. In staunch pluck, good humour, and manly25 fighting, no man was his superior. "Give and take,—the English bull-dog all over. I do like old Griffenbottom," said Spiveycomb, the paper-maker.
On the day of nomination Griffenbottom was carried up on the hustings. This carrying did him good in the borough; but it should be acknowledged on his behalf that he did his best to walk. In the extreme agony of his attack he had to make his speech, and he made it. The hustings stood in the market-square, and straight in front of the wooden erection, standing26 at right angles to it, was a stout27 rail dividing the space for the distance of fifty or sixty yards, so that the supporters of one set of candidates might congregate28 on one side, and the supporters of the other candidates on the other side. In this way would the weaker part, whichever might be the weaker, be protected from the violence of the stronger. On the present occasion it seemed that the friends of Mr. Westmacott congregated29 with the Conservatives. Moggs's allies alone filled one side of the partition. There were a great many speeches made that day from the hustings,—thirteen in all. First the mayor, and then the four proposers and four seconders of the candidates. During these performances, though there was so much noise from the crowd below that not a word could be heard, there was no violence. When old Griffenbottom got up, supporting himself by an arm round one of the posts, he was loudly cheered from both sides. His personal popularity in the borough was undoubted, and his gout made him almost a demi-god. Nobody heard a word that he said; but then he had no desire to be heard. To be seen standing up there, a martyr30 to the gout, but still shouting for Percycross, was enough for his purpose. Sir Thomas encountered a very different reception. He was received with yells, apparently31 from the whole crowd. What he said was of no matter, as not a word was audible; but he did continue to inveigh32 against bribery. Before he had ceased a huge stone was thrown at him, and hit him heavily on the arm. He continued speaking, however, and did not himself know till afterwards that his arm was broken between the shoulder and the elbow. Mr. Westmacott was very short and good-humoured. He intended to be funny about poor Moggs;—and perhaps was funny. But his fun was of no avail. The Moggite crowd had determined33 that no men should be heard till their own candidate should open his mouth.
At last Ontario's turn had come. At first the roar from the crowd was so great that it seemed that it was to be with him as it had been with the others. But by degrees, though there was still a roar,—as of the sea,—Moggs's words became audible. The voices of assent34 and dissent35 are very different, even though they be equally loud. Men desirous of interrupting, do interrupt. But cheers, though they be continuous and loud as thunder, are compatible with a hearing. Moggs by this time, too, had learned to pitch his voice for an out-of-door multitude. He preached his sermon, his old sermon, about the Rights of Labour and the Salt of the Earth, the Tyranny of Capital and the Majesty36 of the Workmen, with an enthusiasm that made him for the moment supremely37 happy. He was certainly the hero of the tour in Percycross, and he allowed himself to believe,—just for that hour,—that he was about to become the hero of a new doctrine38 throughout England. He spoke for over half an hour, while poor Griffenbottom, seated in a chair that had been brought to him, was suffering almost the pains of hell. During this speech Sir Thomas, who had also suffered greatly, but had at first endeavoured to conceal39 that he was suffering, discovered the extent of his misfortune, and allowed himself to be taken out from the hustings to his inn. There was an effort made to induce Mr. Griffenbottom to retire at the same time; but Mr. Griffenbottom, not quite understanding the extent of his colleague's misfortune, and thinking that it became him to remain and to endure, was obdurate40, and would not be moved. He did not care for stones or threats,—did not care even for the gout. That was his place till after the show of hands, and there he would remain. The populace, seeing this commotion41 on the hustings, began to fear that there was an intention to stop the oratory42 of their popular candidate, and called loudly upon Moggs to go on. Moggs did go on,—and was happy.
At last there came the show of hands. It was declared to be in favour of Moggs and Westmacott. That it was very much in favour of Moggs,—in favour of Moggs by five to one, there was no doubt. Among the other candidates there was not perhaps much to choose. A poll was, of course, demanded for the two Conservatives; and then the mayor, complimenting the people on their good behaviour,—in spite of poor Sir Thomas's broken arm,—begged them to go away. That was all very well. Of course they would go away; but not till they had driven their enemies from the field. In half a minute the dividing rail,—the rail that had divided the blue from the yellow,—was down, and all those who had dared to show themselves there as supporters of Griffenbottom and Underwood were driven ignominiously43 from the market-place. They fled at all corners, and in a few seconds not a streak44 of blue ribbon was to be seen in the square. "They'll elect that fellow Moggs to-morrow," said Mr. Westmacott to Kirkham.
"No a bit of it," said Kirkham. "I could spot all the ringleaders in the row. Nine or ten of them are Griffenbottom's old men. They take his money regularly,—get something nearly every year, join the rads at the nomination, and vote for the squire45 at the poll. The chaps who hollow and throw stones always vote t'other side up."
Mr. Griffenbottom kept his seat till he could be carried home in safety through the town, and was then put to bed. The three conservative doctors, who had all been setting Sir Thomas's arm, sat in consultation46 upon their old friend; and it was acknowledged on every side that Mr. Griffenbottom was very ill indeed. All manner of rumours47 went through the town that night. Some believed that both Griffenbottom and Sir Thomas were dead,—and that the mayor had now no choice but to declare Moggs and Westmacott elected. Then there arose a suspicion that the polls would be kept open on the morrow on behalf of two defunct48 candidates, so that a further election on behalf of the conservative party might be ensured. Men swore that they would break into the bedrooms of the Standard Inn, in order that they might satisfy themselves whether the two gentlemen were alive or dead. And so the town was in a hubbub49.
On that evening Moggs was called upon again to address his friends at the Mechanics' Institute, and to listen to the speeches of all the presidents and secretaries and chairmen; but by ten o'clock he was alone in his bedroom at the Cordwainers' Arms. Down-stairs men were shouting, singing, and drinking,—shouting in his honour, though not drinking at his expense. He was alone in his little comfortless room, but felt it to be impossible that he should lie down and rest. His heart was swelling50 with the emotions of the day, and his mind was full of his coming triumph. It was black night, and there was a soft drizzling51 rain;—but it was absolutely necessary for his condition that he should go out. It seemed to him that his very bosom52 would burst, if he confined himself in that narrow space. His thoughts were too big for so small a closet. He crept downstairs and out, through the narrow passage, into the night. Then, by the light of the solitary53 lamp that stood before the door of the public-house, he could still see those glorious words, "Moggs, Purity, and the Rights of Labour." Noble words, which had sufficed to bind54 to him the whole population of that generous-hearted borough! Purity and the Rights of Labour! Might it not be that with that cry, well cried, he might move the very world! As he walked the streets of the town he felt a great love for the borough grow within his bosom. What would he not owe to the dear place which had first recognised his worth, and had enabled him thus early in life to seize hold of those ploughshares which it would be his destiny to hold for all his coming years? He had before him a career such as had graced the lives of the men whom he had most loved and admired,—of men who had dared to be independent, patriotic55, and philanthropical, through all the temptations of political life. Would he be too vain if he thought to rival a Hume or a Cobden? Conceit56, he said to himself, will seek to justify57 itself. Who can rise but those who believe their wings strong enough for soaring? There might be shipwreck58 of course,—but he believed that he now saw his way. As to the difficulty of speaking in public,—that he had altogether overcome. Some further education as to facts, historical and political, might be necessary. That he acknowledged to himself;—but he would not spare himself in his efforts to acquire such education. He went pacing through the damp, muddy, dark streets, making speeches that were deliciously eloquent59 to his own ears. That night he was certainly the happiest man in Percycross, never doubting his success on the morrow,—not questioning that. Had not the whole town greeted him with loudest acclamation as their chosen member? He was deliciously happy;—while poor Sir Thomas was suffering the double pain of his broken arm and his dissipated hopes, and Griffenbottom was lying in his bed, with a doctor on one side and a nurse on the other, hardly able to restrain himself from cursing all the world in his agony.
At a little after eleven a tall man, buttoned up to his chin in an old great coat, called at the Percy Standard, and asked after the health of Mr. Griffenbottom and Sir Thomas. "They ain't neither of them very well then," replied the waiter. "Will you say that Mr. Moggs called to inquire, with his compliments," said the tall man. The respect shown to him was immediately visible. Even the waiter at the Percy Standard acknowledged that for that day Mr. Moggs must be treated as a great man in Percycross. After that Moggs walked home and crept into bed;—but it may be doubted whether he slept a wink60 that night.
And then there came the real day,—the day of the election. It was a foul, rainy, muddy, sloppy61 morning, without a glimmer62 of sun, with that thick, pervading63, melancholy64 atmosphere which forces for the time upon imaginative men a conviction that nothing is worth anything. Griffenbottom was in bed in one room at the Percy Standard, and Underwood in the next. The three conservative doctors moving from one chamber65 to another, watching each other closely, and hardly leaving the hotel, had a good time of it. Mr. Trigger had already remarked that in one respect the breaking of Sir Thomas's arm was lucky, because now there would be no difficulty as to paying the doctors out of the common fund. Every half-hour the state of the poll was brought to them. Early in the morning Moggs had been in the ascendant. At half-past nine the numbers were as follows:—
Moggs 193
Westmacott 172
Griffenbottom 162
Underwood 147
At ten, and at half-past ten, Moggs was equally in advance, but Westmacott had somewhat receded66. At noon the numbers were considerably67 altered, and were as follows:—
Griffenbottom 892
Moggs 777
Westmacott 752
Underwood 678
These at least were the numbers as they came from the conservative books. Westmacott was placed nearer to Moggs by his own tellers68. For Moggs no special books were kept. He was content to abide69 by the official counting.
Griffenbottom was consulted privately by Trigger and Mr. Spiveycomb as to what steps should be taken in this emergency. It was suggested in a whisper that Underwood should be thrown over altogether. There would be no beating Moggs,—so thought Mr. Spiveycomb,—and unless an effort were made it might be possible that Westmacott would creep up. Trigger in his heart considered that it would be impossible to get enough men at three half-crowns a piece to bring Sir Thomas up to a winning condition. But Griffenbottom, now that the fight was forward, was unwilling70 to give way a foot. "We haven't polled half the voters," said he.
"More than half what we shall poll," answered Trigger.
"They always hang back," growled71 Griffenbottom. "Fight it out. I don't believe they'll ever elect a shoemaker here." The order was given, and it was fought out.
Moggs, early in the morning, had been radiant with triumph, when he saw his name at the head of the lists displayed from the two inimical committee rooms. As he walked the streets, with a chairman on one side of him and a president on the other, it seemed as though his feet almost disdained72 to touch the mud. These were two happy hours, during which he did not allow himself to doubt of his triumph. When the presidents and the chairmen spoke to him, he could hardly answer them, so rapt was he in contemplation of his coming greatness. His very soul was full of his seat in Parliament! But when Griffenbottom approached him on the lists, and then passed him, there came a shadow upon his brow. He still felt sure of his election, but he would lose that grand place at the top of the poll to which he had taught himself to look so proudly. Soon after noon a cruel speech was made to him. "We've about pumped our side dry," said a secretary of a Young Men's Association.
"Do you mean we've polled all our friends?" asked Moggs.
"Pretty nearly, Mr. Moggs. You see our men have nothing to wait for, and they came up early." Then Ontario's heart sank within him, and he began to think of the shop in Bond Street.
The work of that afternoon in Percycross proved how correct Mr. Griffenbottom had been in his judgment73. He kept his place at the top of the poll. It was soon evident that that could not be shaken. Then Westmacott passed by Moggs, and in the next half-hour Sir Thomas did so also. This was at two, when Ontario betook himself to the privacy of his bedroom at the Cordwainers' Arms. His pluck left him altogether, and he found himself unable to face the town as a losing candidate. Then for two hours there was a terrible struggle between Westmacott and Underwood, during which things were done in the desperation of the moment, as to which it might be so difficult to give an account, should any subsequent account be required. We all know how hard it is to sacrifice the power of winning, when during the heat of the contest the power of winning is within our reach. At four o'clock the state of the poll was as follows:—
Griffenbottom 1402
Underwood 1007
Westmacott 984
Moggs 821
When the chairmen and presidents waited upon Moggs, telling him of the final result, and informing him that he must come to the hustings and make a speech, they endeavoured to console him by an assurance that he, and he alone, had fought the fight fairly. "They'll both be unseated, you know, as sure as eggs," said the president. "It can't be otherwise. They've been busy up in a little room in Petticoat Court all the afternoon, and the men have been getting as much as fifteen shillings a head!" Moggs was not consoled, but he did make his speech. It was poor and vapid;—but still there was just enough of manhood left in him for that. As soon as his speech had been spoken he escaped up to London by the night mail train. Westmacott also spoke; but announcement was made on behalf of the members of the borough that they were, both of them, in their beds.
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1
nomination
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| n.提名，任命，提名权 | |
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undesirable
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| adj.不受欢迎的，不良的，不合意的，讨厌的；n.不受欢迎的人，不良分子 | |
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borough
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| n.享有自治权的市镇；(英)自治市镇 | |
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ridicule
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| v.讥讽，挖苦；n.嘲弄 | |
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privately
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| adv.以私人的身份，悄悄地，私下地 | |
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6
seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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hustings
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| n.竞选活动 | |
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odious
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| adj.可憎的，讨厌的 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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complaisant
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| adj.顺从的，讨好的 | |
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vile
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| adj.卑鄙的，可耻的，邪恶的；坏透的 | |
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radicals
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| n.激进分子( radical的名词复数 )；根基；基本原理；[数学]根数 | |
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bribery
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| n.贿络行为，行贿，受贿 | |
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expenditure
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| n.(时间、劳力、金钱等)支出；使用，消耗 | |
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snarled
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| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
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mien
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| n.风采；态度 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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canvass
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| v.招徕顾客，兜售；游说；详细检查，讨论 | |
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pertinacity
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| n.执拗，顽固 | |
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wheedle
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| v.劝诱，哄骗 | |
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foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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manly
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| adj.有男子气概的；adv.男子般地，果断地 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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congregate
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| v.(使)集合，聚集 | |
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congregated
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| （使）集合，聚集( congregate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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inveigh
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| v.痛骂 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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assent
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| v.批准，认可；n.批准，认可 | |
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dissent
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| n./v.不同意，持异议 | |
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majesty
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| n.雄伟，壮丽，庄严，威严；最高权威，王权 | |
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supremely
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| adv.无上地，崇高地 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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conceal
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| v.隐藏，隐瞒，隐蔽 | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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oratory
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| n.演讲术；词藻华丽的言辞 | |
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ignominiously
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| adv.耻辱地，屈辱地，丢脸地 | |
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streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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consultation
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| n.咨询；商量；商议；会议 | |
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rumours
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| n.传闻( rumour的名词复数 )；风闻；谣言；谣传 | |
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defunct
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| adj.死亡的；已倒闭的 | |
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hubbub
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| n.嘈杂；骚乱 | |
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swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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solitary
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| adj.孤独的，独立的，荒凉的；n.隐士 | |
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bind
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| vt.捆，包扎；装订；约束；使凝固；vi.变硬 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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shipwreck
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| n.船舶失事，海难 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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wink
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| n.眨眼，使眼色，瞬间；v.眨眼，使眼色，闪烁 | |
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sloppy
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| adj.邋遢的，不整洁的 | |
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glimmer
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| v.发出闪烁的微光；n.微光，微弱的闪光 | |
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pervading
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的现在分词 ) | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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tellers
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| n.（银行）出纳员( teller的名词复数 )；（投票时的）计票员；讲故事等的人；讲述者 | |
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abide
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| vi.遵守；坚持；vt.忍受 | |
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unwilling
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| adj.不情愿的 | |
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growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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disdained
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| 鄙视( disdain的过去式和过去分词 )； 不屑于做，不愿意做 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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