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.
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
Copyrights
Autobiography of Anthony Trollope from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
