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Ralph the Heir I

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RALPH THE HEIR
believe their wings strong enough for soaring? There might be shipwreck 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 eloquent 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 wink that night.
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And then there came the real day, — the day of the elec­tion. It was a foul, rainy, muddy, sloppy morning, without a glimmer of sun, with that thick, pervading, melancholy 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 chamber 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 receded. At noon the numbers were considerably altered, and were as follows: —
Griffenbottom 892 Moggs 777 Westmacott 752 Underwood 678
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These at least were the numbers as they came from the con­servative books. Westmacott was placed nearer to Moggs by his own tellers. For Moggs no special books were kept. He was content to abide 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 unwill­ing 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,” growled 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 dis­dained 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
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ANTHONY TROLLOPE
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 judgment. 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 con-
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test 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.
Литературно-художественное издание
Anthony Trollope
Ralph the Heir · I
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