Herewith an excerpt from Chapter LIV of The Way We Live Now, by Anthony Trollope, first published in 1875.

The background:

Mr. Augustus Melmotte, reputed to be in possession of a great fortune, of which both the magnitude and the provenance are cloaked in considerable mystery, has declared his candidacy for the Parliamentary seat of Westminster. Some say he’s much less wealthy than he claims to be, others that his wealth has all been effectively stolen from stakeholders in the vast enterprises that he’s run into the ground. His supporters say he’s a financial genius, and that this is a sufficient qualification for the job. He is accompanied on the campaign trail by Lord Alfred Grendall, a member of the Conservative establishment from Indiana London who has hitched his wagon to Mr. Melmotte’s star:

There was one man who thoroughly believed that the thing at the present moment most essentially necessary to England’s glory was the return of Mr. Melmotte for Westminster. This man was undoubtedly a very ignorant man. He knew nothing of any one political question that had vexed England for the last half century, — nothing whatever of the political history which had made England what it was at the beginning of that half century. Of such names as Hampden, Somers and Pitt he had hardly ever heard. He had probably never read a book in his life. He knew nothing of the working of parliament, nothing of nationality, — had no preference whatever for one form of government over another, never having given his mind a moment’s trouble on the subject. He had not even reflected how a despotic monarch or a federal republic might affect himself, and possibly did not comprehend the meaning of those terms. But yet he was fully confident that England did demand and ought to demand that Mr. Melmotte should be returned for Westminster. This man was Mr. Melmotte himself.

In this conjunction of affairs Mr. Melmotte certainly lost his head. He had audacity almost sufficient for the very dangerous game which he was playing; but as crisis heaped itself upon crisis, he became deficient in prudence. He did not hesitate to speak of himself as the man who ought to represent Westminster, and of those who opposed him as little malignant beings who had interests of their own to serve.

…

The more arrogant he became the more vulgar he was, till even Lord Alfred would almost be tempted to run away to impecuniosity and freedom. Perhaps there were some with whom this conduct had a salutary effect. No doubt arrogance will produce submission; and there are men who take other men at the price those other men put upon themselves. Such persons could not refrain from thinking Melmotte to be mighty because he swaggered; and gave their hinder parts to be kicked merely because he put up his toe. We all know men of this calibre, — and how they seem to grow in number. But the net result of his personal demeanour was injurious; and it was debated among some of the warmest of his supporters whether a hint should not be given him. “Couldn’t Lord Alfred say a word to him?” said the Honourable Beauchamp Beauclerk…

“Alfred’s more than half afraid of him” said Lionel Lupton, a young aristocrat, also in Parliament, who had been inoculated with the idea that the interests of the party demanded Melmotte in Parliament, but who would have given up his Scotch shooting rather than have undergone Melmotte’s company for a day.

“Something really must be done, Mr. Beauclerk”, said Mr. Jones…”He is making a great many personal enemies.”

…

Then it was decided that Mr. Beauclerk should speak a word to Lord Alfred … “Alfred”, said the chosen mentor at the club one afternoon, “I wonder whether you couldn’t say something to Melmotte about his manner…They tell me he is giving offence…Couldn’t he draw it a little milder?”

Lord Alfred made his reply almost in a whisper. “If you ask me, I don’t think he could.” If you got him down and trampled on him, you might make him mild. I don’t think there’s any other way.”

“You couldn’t speak to him, then?”

“Not unless I did it with a horsewhip.”

This, coming from Lord Alfred, who was absolutely dependent on the man, was very strong. Lord Alfred had been much afflicted that morning. He had spent some hours with his friend…and had been nauseated with Melmotte….. But he was true to his party. Melmotte was not the first vulgar man the Conservatives had taken by the hand, and patted on the back, and told that he was a god.