I fell into the habit of dropping in on Nancy at least twice a week on my
way from the office, and I met her occasionally at other houses. I did
not tell Maude of that first impulsive visit; but one evening a few weeks
later she asked me where I had been, and when I told her she made no
comment. I came presently to the conclusion that this renewed intimacy
did not trouble her--which was what I wished to believe. Of course I had
gone to Nancy for a stimulation I failed to get at home, and it is the
more extraordinary, therefore, that I did not become more discontented
and restless: I suppose this was because I had grown to regard marriage
as most of the world regarded it, as something inevitable and humdrum, as
a kind of habit it is useless to try to shake off. But life is so full of
complexities and anomalies that I still had a real affection for Maude,
and I liked her the more because she didn't expect too much of me, and
because she didn't complain of my friendship with Nancy although I should
vehemently have denied there was anything to complain of. I respected
Maude. If she was not a squaw, she performed religiously the traditional
squaw duties, and made me comfortable: and the fact that we lived
separate mental existences did not trouble me because I never thought of
hers--or even that she had one. She had the children, and they seemed to
suffice. She never renewed her appeal for my confidence, and I forgot
that she had made it.
Nevertheless I always felt a tug at my heartstrings when June came around
and it was time for her and the children to go to Mattapoisett for the
summer; when I accompanied them, on the evening of their departure, to
the smoky, noisy station and saw deposited in the sleeping-car their
luggage and shawls and bundles. They always took the evening train to
Boston; it was the best. Tom and Susan were invariably there with candy
and toys to see them off--if Susan and her children had not already
gone--and at such moments my heart warmed to Tom. And I was astonished as
I clung to Matthew and Moreton and little Biddy at the affection that
welled up within me, saddened when I kissed Maude good-bye. She too was
sad, and always seemed to feel compunctions for deserting me.
"I feel so selfish in leaving you all alone!" she would say. "If it
weren't for the children--they need the sea air. But I know you don't
miss me as I miss you. A man doesn't, I suppose.... Please don't work so
hard, and promise me you'll come on and stay a long time. You can if you
want to. We shan't starve." She smiled. "That nice room, which is yours,
at the southeast corner, is always waiting for you. And you do like the
sea, and seeing the sail-boats in the morning."
I felt an emptiness when the train pulled out. I did love my family,
after all! I would go back to the deserted house, and I could not bear to
look in at the nursery door, at the little beds with covers flung over
them. Why couldn't I appreciate these joys when I had them?
One evening, as we went home in an open street-car together, after such a
departure, Tom blurted out:--"Hugh, I believe I care for your family as
much as for my own. I often wonder if you realize how wonderful these
children are! My boys are just plain ruffians--although I think they're
pretty decent ruffians, but Matthew has a mind--he's thoughtful--and an
imagination. He'll make a name for himself some day if he's steered
properly and allowed to develop naturally. Moreton's more like my boys.
And as for Chickabiddy!--" words failed him.
I put my hand on his knee. I actually loved him again as I had loved and
yearned for him as a child,--he was so human, so dependable. And why
couldn't this feeling last? He disapproved--foolishly, I thought--of my
professional career, and this was only one of his limitations. But I knew
that he was loyal. Why hadn't I been able to breathe and be reasonably
happy in that atmosphere of friendship and love in which I had been
placed--or rather in which I had placed myself?.... Before the summer was
a day or two older I had grown accustomed to being alone, and enjoyed the
liberty; and when Maude and the children returned in the autumn,
similarly, it took me some days to get used to the restrictions imposed
by a household. I run the risk of shocking those who read this by
declaring that if my family had been taken permanently out of my life, I
should not long have missed them. But on the whole, in those years my
marriage relation might be called a negative one. There were moments, as
I have described, when I warmed to Maude, moments when I felt something
akin to a violent antagonism aroused by little mannerisms and tricks she
had. The fact that we got along as well as we did was probably due to the
orthodox teaching with which we had been inoculated,--to the effect that
matrimony was a moral trial, a shaking-down process. But moral trials
were ceasing to appeal to people, and more and more of them were refusing
to be shaken down. We didn't cut the Gordian knot, but we managed to
loosen it considerably.
I have spoken of a new species of titans who inhabited the giant
buildings in Wall Street, New York, and fought among themselves for
possession of the United States of America. It is interesting to note
that in these struggles a certain chivalry was observed among the
combatants, no matter how bitter the rivalry: for instance, it was deemed
very bad form for one of the groups of combatants to take the public into
their confidence; cities were upset and stirred to the core by these
conflicts, and the citizens never knew who was doing the fighting, but
imagined that some burning issue was at stake that concerned them. As a
matter of fact the issue always did concern them, but not in the way they
supposed.
Gradually, out of the chaotic melee in which these titans were engaged
had emerged one group more powerful than the rest and more respectable,
whose leader was the Personality to whom I have before referred. He and
his group had managed to gain control of certain conservative fortresses
in various cities such as the Corn National Bank and the Ashuela
Telephone Company--to mention two of many: Adolf Scherer was his ally,
and the Boyne Iron Works, Limited, was soon to be merged by him into a
greater corporation still. Leonard Dickinson might be called his local
governor-general. We manned the parapets and kept our ears constantly to
the ground to listen for the rumble of attacks; but sometimes they burst
upon us fiercely and suddenly, without warning. Such was the assault on
the Ashuela, which for years had exercised an apparently secure monopoly
of the city's telephone service, which had been able to ignore with
complacency the shrillest protests of unreasonable subscribers. Through
the Pilot it was announced to the public that certain benevolent "Eastern
capitalists" were ready to rescue them from their thraldom if the city
would grant them a franchise. Mr. Lawler, the disinterestedness of whose
newspaper could not be doubted, fanned the flame day by day, sent his
reporters about the city gathering instances of the haughty neglect of
the Ashuela, proclaiming its instruments antiquated compared with those
used in more progressive cities, as compared with the very latest
inventions which the Automatic Company was ready to install provided they
could get their franchise. And the prices! These, too, would fall--under
competition. It was a clever campaign. If the city would give them a
franchise, that Automatic Company--so well named! would provide automatic
instruments. Each subscriber, by means of a numerical disk, could call up
any other, subscriber; there would be no central operator, no listening,
no tapping of wires; the number of calls would be unlimited. As a proof
of the confidence of these Eastern gentlemen in our city, they were
willing to spend five millions, and present more than six hundred
telephones free to the city departments! What was fairer, more generous
than this! There could be no doubt that popular enthusiasm was enlisted
in behalf of the "Eastern Capitalists," who were made to appear in the
light of Crusaders ready to rescue a groaning people from the thrall of
monopoly. The excitement approached that of a presidential election, and
became the dominant topic at quick-lunch counters and in street-cars.
Cheap and efficient service! Down with the Bastille of monopoly!
As counsel for the Ashuela, Mr. Ogilvy sent for me, and by certain secret
conduits of information at my disposal I was not long in discovering the
disquieting fact that a Mr. Orthwein, who was described as a gentleman
with fat fingers and a plausible manner, had been in town for a week and
had been twice seen entering and emerging from Monahan's saloon. In
short, Mr. Jason had already been "seen." Nevertheless I went to him
myself, to find him for the first time in my experience absolutely
non-committal.
"What's the Ashuela willing to do?" he demanded.
I mentioned a sum, and he shook his head. I mentioned another, and still
he shook his head.
"Come 'round again," he said...
I was compelled to report this alarming situation to Ogilvy and Dickinson
and a few chosen members of a panicky board of directors.
"It's that damned Grannis crowd," said Dickinson, mentioning an
aggressive gentleman who had migrated from Chicago to Wall Street some
five years before in a pink collar.
"But what's to be done?" demanded Ogilvy, playing nervously with a gold
pencil on the polished table. He was one of those Americans who in a
commercial atmosphere become prematurely white, and today his boyish,
smooth-shaven face was almost as devoid of colour as his hair. Even
Leonard Dickinson showed anxiety, which was unusual for him.
"You've got to fix it, Hugh," he said.
I did not see my way, but I had long ago learned to assume the unruffled
air and judicial manner of speaking that inspires the layman with almost
superstitious confidence in the lawyer....
"We'll find a way out," I said.
Mr. Jason, of course, held the key to the situation, and just how I was
to get around him was problematical. In the meantime there was the
public: to permit the other fellow to capture that was to be lacking in
ordinary prudence; if its votes counted for nothing, its savings were
desirable; and it was fast getting into a state of outrage against
monopoly. The chivalry of finance did not permit of a revelation that Mr.
Grannis and his buccaneers were behind the Automatic, but it was possible
to direct and strengthen the backfire which the Era and other
conservative newspapers had already begun. Mr. Tallant for delicate
reasons being persona non grata at the Boyne Club, despite the fact that
he had so many friends there, we met for lunch in a private room at the
new hotel, and as we sipped our coffee and smoked our cigars we planned a
series of editorials and articles that duly appeared. They made a strong
appeal to the loyalty of our citizens to stand by the home company and
home capital that had taken generous risks to give them service at a time
when the future of the telephone business was by no means assured; they
belittled the charges made by irresponsible and interested "parties," and
finally pointed out, not without effect, that one logical consequence of
having two telephone companies would be to compel subscribers in
self-defence to install two telephones instead of one. And where was the
saving in that?
"Say, Paret," said Judah B. when we had finished our labours; "if you
ever get sick of the law, I'll give you a job on the Era's staff. This is
fine, the way you put it. It'll do a lot of good, but how in hell are you
going to handle Judd?...."
For three days the inspiration was withheld. And then, as I was strolling
down Boyne Street after lunch gazing into the store windows it came
suddenly, without warning. Like most inspirations worth anything, it was
very simple. Within half an hour I had reached Monahan's saloon and found
Mr. Jason out of bed, but still in his bedroom, seated meditatively at
the window that looked over the alley.
"You know the crowd in New York behind this Automatic company as well as
I do, Jason," I said. "Why do you want to deal with them when we've
always been straight with you, when we're ready to meet them and go one
better? Name your price."
"Suppose I do--what then," he replied. "This thing's gone pretty far.
Under that damned new charter the franchise has got to be bid for--hasn't
it? And the people want this company. There'll be a howl from one end of
this town to the other if we throw 'em down."
"We'll look out for the public," I assured him, smiling.
"Well," he said, with one of his glances that were like flashes, "what
you got up your sleeve?"
"Suppose another telephone company steps in, and bids a little higher for
the franchise. That relieves, your aldermen of all responsibility,
doesn't it?"
"Another telephone company!" he repeated.