life-giving waters down from a distant mountain, and it has neither the
beauty of nature nor that given by the hand of man, but the people will
point importantly to the square wooden hotel of only two stories, and
tell you that there occurred the great crisis in the most famous and
picturesque Presidential campaign ever waged in the United States; they
will even lead you to the very room in which the big talk occurred, and
say, in lowered voices, that the furniture is exactly the same, and
arranged just as it was on that momentous night when the history of the
world might have been changed. In this room the people of Philipsburg
have a reverential air, and there is cause for it.
The affair did not begin at Philipsburg--it merely had its climax
there--but far away on the dusty plains of eastern Washington, where the
wheat grows so tall, and it bubbled and seethed as the candidate and his
party travelled eastward, stopping and speaking many times by the way.
It was all about the tariff, a dry subject in itself, but, as tall oaks
from little acorns grow, so a dry subject often can make interesting
people do interesting things.
At the convention that nominated Mr. Grayson for the Presidency the
subject of the tariff had been left somewhat vague in the platform, not
from deliberate purpose, but merely through the drift of events; the
question had not interested the people greatly in some time; other
things connected with both the foreign and internal policy of the
government, particularly the continued occupation of the Philippines and
a projected new banking system, were more to the fore; but as the
campaign proceeded certain events caused the tariff also to be brought
into issue and to receive a large share of public attention.
Now, a clever man--above all, one as clever as Jimmy Grayson--could
avoid giving a decided opinion upon this subject. It is party creed for
a candidate to stand upon his platform, and, as the platform contained
no tariff plank, he was not obliged to take any stand upon the tariff.
Such a course would seem good politics, too, but Harley knew that Mr.
Grayson favored a reduction of the tariff and a liberal measure of
reciprocity with neighboring states, and he dreaded the time when the
candidate should declare himself upon the subject; he did not see how he
could do it without losing many votes, because there was a serious
difference of view inside his own party. And Harley's dread grew out of
his intense desire to see Mr. Grayson elected. His hero was not
perfect--no man was; there were some important truths which he did not
yet know, but he was honest, able, and true, and he came nearer to being
the ideal candidate than any other man whom he had ever seen. Above all,
he represented the principles which Harley, from the bottom of his soul,
wished to triumph.
The fight had been begun against great odds, against powerful interests
consolidated in a battle-line that at first seemed impervious, but by
tremendous efforts they had made progress; the vast energy and the
winning personality of Mr. Grayson were a strong weapon, and Harley was
gradually sensible that the people were rallying around him in
increasing numbers, and by people he did not merely mean the masses of
the lowest, those who never raise themselves; Harley was never such a
demagogue as to think that a man was bad because he had achieved
something in the world and had prospered; he had too honest and clear a
mind to put a premium upon incapacity and idleness.
Lately he had begun to have hope--a feeling that Mr. Grayson might be
elected despite the "King" Plummer defection was growing upon him, if
they could only abide by the issues already formed. But at the best it
would be a fight to the finish, with the chances in favor of the other
man. Yet his heart was infused with hope until this hateful tariff
question began to raise its head. Harley knew that a declaration upon it
would split the party, or at least would cut from it a fragment big
enough to cause defeat. He devoutly hoped that they would steer clear of
this dangerous rock, but he was not so sure of Jimmy Grayson, who, after
all, was his own pilot. And his amiability did not alter the fact that
he had a strong hand.
Harley at first heard the mutterings of the thunder only from afar; it
was being debated in the East among the great manufacturing cities, but
as yet the West was untouched by the storm. Mr. Heathcote, the Eastern
committeeman, called his attention to it after they had passed the
mountain-range that divides western Washington from eastern Washington.
Harley was looking out of the window at the rippling brown plain, which
he was told was one of the best wheat countries in the world. "At
first," said his informant, a pioneer, "we thought it was a desert, and
we thought so, too, for a long time afterwards; it looked like loose
sand, and the wind actually blew the soil about as if it were dust. Now,
and without irrigation, it produces its thirty bushels of wheat per acre
season after season."
Harley was thinking of this brilliant transformation, when the
committeeman, who was sitting just behind him, suddenly changed the
channel of his thoughts.
"I have here a Walla Walla paper that will interest you, Mr. Harley," he
said. "In fact, it is likely to interest us all. The despatch is
somewhat meagre, but it will suffice."
He put his finger on the top head-line of the first page, and Harley
read: "The Tariff an Issue." He took the paper and read the article
carefully. The debate had occurred before an immense audience in Madison
Square Garden, in New York City, and according to the despatch it had
excited the greatest interest, a statement that Harley could easily
believe.
"I was hoping that we would be spared this," he said, as he laid the
paper down and his face became grave. "Why do they bring it up? It's not
in the platform and it should not be made an issue, at least not now."
"But it is an issue, after all," replied Mr. Heathcote, "and I am
surprised that the enemy did not raise the question sooner. They must
have had some very bad management. They are united on this question, and
we are not. If we are forced to come into line of battle on it, then we
are divided and they are not; don't you see their advantage?"
"Yes, it is manifest," replied Harley, gloomily. Then, after a little
thought, he began to brighten.
"It is not necessary for Jimmy Grayson to declare himself."
"He will, if he is asked to do so."
"But we are away out here in the Western mountains, out of immediate
touch with the great centres of population. These thinly settled states
are doubtful, those more populous are not. Here they are not interested
in the tariff either one way or the other; the subject has scarcely been
mentioned on our Western tour; why can we not still keep it in the
dark?"
"But, I tell you, if the issue is presented to Jimmy Grayson, he is sure
to speak his mind about it."
"It is for us to see that it is not presented. I don't think it will be
done by any of the local population, and we must exercise a censorship
over the press. We must try to keep from him all newspapers containing
accounts of the tariff debates; we must not let him know that the issue
is before the public off there in the East. There is only a month more
of the campaign, and, while it is not likely that we can suppress the
matter entirely, we may keep it down until it is too late to do much
harm."
"The plan isn't a bad one," said Mr. Heathcote; "but we've got to take
everybody into the plot. Mr. Grayson alone is to be left in ignorance."
"They are all his devoted personal friends except Churchill, of the
_Monitor_, and I can bully him into silence."
Harley's face flushed slightly as he made this assertion with emphasis.
Mr. Heathcote, who was learning much these days, smiled as he observed
him.
"Mr. Harley," he said, "no one could doubt the reality of your wishes
for Mr. Grayson's success."
All went willingly into the little conspiracy against the extension of
Mr. Grayson's knowledge, even Churchill, under the whip and spur of
Harley's will, promising a sullen silence. The case itself presented
aspects that stirred these men, calling as it did for an alertness of
mind and delicacy of handling that appealed to their sense of
responsibility; hence it aroused their interest, which in turn begat a
desire to succeed.
But Harley, as well as Mr. Heathcote and the others, knew very well that
it was not the enemy alone who had raised this new and, as they all
feared, fatal issue; even if they had not read it in the despatches, the
hand of the minority within their own party was too clearly visible. In
the newspapers that reached them constant allusions were made to Mr.
Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates, who were deeply interested
in the maintenance of the tariff, and who, it was said, would force Mr.
Grayson to pledge himself to its support; this, it was predicted, they
could easily do, as it was obvious that he could not win without the
help of this minority.
Harley knew that the Goodnight faction now intended to force the
issue--that is, either to subject Mr. Grayson or to ruin him, and he saw
that the affair would require the most delicate handling; only that and
the best of fortune could postpone the issue long enough.
They took Sylvia into their confidence, both by necessity and choice,
but they were rather surprised to find that in this case she did not
believe in diplomacy.
"If I were Uncle James," she said, with indignant anger, "I would tell
them to go to--well, well, where a man would tell them to go to, and I
would not be polite about it, either."
Harley laughed at her heat, although he liked it, too.
"And then you'd lose the election," he said.
"I'd lose it, if I must, but at least I'd save my independence and
self-respect in doing so. Is Uncle James the nominee, or is he not? If
he is the nominee, shouldn't he say what he ought to do?"
"Perhaps, but it isn't politics; even if he were elected he wouldn't be
absolutely free; no ruler ever was, whether president or king."
But she clung to her opinion.
It was no easy matter to hide the tariff issue from Jimmy Grayson, who
was exceedingly watchful of all things about him, despite his great
labors in the campaign; yet his associates were aided to some extent by
the rather meagre character of the newspapers which now reached them,
newspapers published in small towns, and therefore unable to pay for
long despatches from the East. But even these were censored with the
most jealous care; if they contained anything about the hot tariff
discussion off there in the Atlantic States, they disappeared before
they could reach the candidate. All the news was inspected with the most
rigid care, just as if the real feeling of his subjects was being hidden
from a kaiser or a czar.
But Harley and his friends soon found that they had laid upon themselves
a great and onerous task, and to Harley, at least, it was all the
heavier because he found, at last, that his heart was not wholly in it.
Despite all their caution, references to the tariff debate would dribble
in; Jimmy Grayson began to grow suspicious; he would ask about the work
of the campaign orators in the East, and he seemed surprised that his
friends, above all the correspondents, should have so little news on the
subject.
"I should like to see some of the New York or Chicago newspapers, even
if they are ten days old," he said. "It seems odd that we have not had
any for a week now."
"The metropolitan press scarcely reaches these isolated regions," said
Harley.
"We have been in isolated regions before, and we had the New York and
Chicago newspapers every day."
Harley did not answer, and presently contrived some excuse for leaving
Jimmy Grayson, being much troubled in mind, not alone because the
candidate was growing suspicious, but because of a rising belief that he
ought to know, that the truth should not be hidden from him. If the
tariff was to be an issue, then the candidate should declare himself,
cost what it might. Yet Harley, for the present, followed the course
that he had set. But he shivered a little when he looked at the New
York and Chicago newspapers that were smuggled about the train; the
tariff question was swelling in importance, and the head-lines over the
debates were growing bigger.
A stray copy of the _Monitor_ reached them, and it was big with
prophecy: "At last the gauntlet has been thrown down by the wise, the
conservative, and the high moral element of the party." It said,
editorially: "Our impulsive young man will learn that there are older
and soberer heads, and he must bow his own to them. The _Monitor_ has
long foreseen this necessary crisis, although the blind multitude would
not believe us, and we are both glad and proud to say that we have had
our modest little share in forcing it."
The candidate sent for Harley the next noon, and when the correspondent
entered the state-room set aside for his use, he saw that Mr. Grayson's
face was grave. He held a yellow sheet of paper, evidently a telegraph
form, in his right hand, and was tapping it lightly with the forefinger
of his left hand.
"Harley," he said, smiling the frank smile that made him so many
friends; "I've got in the habit of looking upon you as a friend and sort
of confidential adviser."
"It makes me happy to hear you say so," said Harley, who was gratified.
Jimmy Grayson looked at the telegram, and his face became grave. Then he
handed it to Harley, saying, "I have here something that I do not
altogether understand. Read it."
It was from New York, and it said:
"Your silence on tariff issue admirable. Keep it up. Don't let enemy
force you into action."
It was signed with the name of a New York politician well-known as a
trimmer.
Mr. Grayson looked Harley squarely in the eye, and the correspondent's
face fell.
"Now what does it mean?"
Harley was silent.
"What does it mean?" continued Mr. Grayson, in a perplexed tone. "The
tariff has not been a real issue in this campaign. Now why does he
congratulate me on my silence?"
Harley did not speak and Jimmy Grayson's face grew grave.
"I am sorry that we have not been able to keep fully informed about the
campaign in the East," he said. "I am bound to assume from this that the
tariff issue has been raised there, and if a fight is to be made upon it
I, as the head of the ticket, must do my share."
Then Harley confessed, and in doing so relieved his conscience, in which
he was wise, both from the moral and prudential points of view, because
the truth about the situation could not be hidden any longer from the
acute mind of Jimmy Grayson. He concealed nothing, he showed that he was
the leader of the conspiracy, and he described their devious attempts,
with their relative success and failure.
"Harley," said the candidate, when the tale was told, "I am more than
ever convinced that you are my sincere friend. You would not have done
this if you were not. It was a mistake, but you certainly meant well."
"I did it because I thought I could help."
"I know it, but I repeat that it was a mistake. Such an important matter
could not be kept permanently in the background. It was bound to come
forward, and with all the greater force because it had been restrained
so long. I don't think any harm has been done, but I'll have to take the
management of it into my own hands now."
He smiled again with such frankness and sincerity that Harley's feelings
were not hurt by his words, but he quickly realized the truth of his
assertion about the increased force of the disclosure because it had
been kept back so long. Now the avalanche struck them. When Harley left
the state-room, Churchill came to him.
"Harley," he said, "the _Monitor_ has telegraphed me to get a thousand
words from Mr. Grayson, if I can, on the tariff issue. My first duty is
to my paper, and I am bound to obey these instructions."
"It's all right, he knows now; go right in to see him; but I am sure he
won't talk to you about it; he isn't ready yet."
Three or four more correspondents received instructions of the same
character, and in addition there was a rain of telegrams for Jimmy
Grayson himself and for his party associates. It seemed that the issue
had suddenly culminated in the East, and the candidate would be bound to
speak. But the telegrams to Mr. Grayson were of a varying nature; many
of them were opposed to revision, and they were usually signed by men of
wealth and power, those who furnished the sinews of war, as necessary in
a political campaign--and entirely within the confines of honesty,
too--as the cannon and the rifles are on the field of battle. Others
took another view, and it was apparent to everybody that great trouble
in the party was at hand.
Gloom settled over the train. They were ready at all times to fight the
enemy, but how to handle defection among their own men was a puzzling
thing, and there was cause for despair. Sylvia, however, was glad that
Mr. Grayson knew. She said that he would do right, whatever it might be.
"I've been in to see Mr. Grayson," said Mr. Heathcote to Harley, "and I
suggested that he might continue his silence on the great question. You
see, he is not bound to speak. If he doesn't want to, nobody can make
him."
"No, nobody can make him speak, nor can anybody keep him from it if he
wishes to do so."
While they talked the train was slowing down for a stop at a tiny
village of a dozen houses, and when there a long telegram was brought to
Mr. Heathcote. He read it with absorbed attention, and when he looked up
at Harley his face showed relief.
"This is good! This is good!" he said. "The telegram is dated Chicago,
and it tells me that a big committee of New York, Philadelphia, and
Boston men is coming on to see Mr. Grayson. They are good members of our
own party, all in favor of letting the tariff alone, and I think they
can bring such pressure to bear that they will save us."
Harley himself felt relief. The committee might achieve something, and,
at any rate, the responsibility would rest upon more heads.
"When can we expect these men?" he asked.
"In two days; they are already well on their way."
"Being an Eastern man yourself, it will fall to your lot to be the
intermediary."
"I suppose so," said Mr. Heathcote, and he sighed a little.
True to Mr. Heathcote's prediction, the committee overtook them two days
later at a way-station, and Harley saw at once that strenuous days were
ahead, because the committee had a full sense of its own largeness and
importance, a fact evident even to those less acute than Harley; and it
was led by Mr. Goodnight and Mr. Crayon themselves. It was composed of
eight men, all middle-aged or more, and every one was set in a way of
thinking peculiar to the business in which he had spent many years and
in which he had made much money.
All glittered with the gloss of prosperity. When they left the train
they put on polished silk-hats, brought forth by ready servants, and
when they walked through the streets of the little villages they were
resplendent in long, black frock-coats and light trousers. They were
not, as Mr. Heathcote had been in his primordial condition, young and
merely mistaken, but they had passed the time of life when there was
anything to be learned; in fact, they were quite well aware that they
knew everything, particularly those subjects pertaining to the growth
and prosperity of the country.
The leader of the committee was Mr. Clinton Goodnight, who, as has been
told, was a manufacturer of immense wealth and also a member of the
Lower House of Congress, thus combining in himself the loftiest
attributes of law-making and money-making. He was helped, too, by a
manner of great solemnity and a slow, deep voice that placed emphasis
upon every alternate word, thus adding impressiveness to everything he
said. He was assiduously seconded by Mr. Henry Crayon, thin-faced and
alert as ever, speaking in short, snappy sentences, from which all
useless adjectives were elided. Mr. Crayon was self-made, and was
willing that it should be known. He, too, had fathomed the depths of
knowledge.
They were introduced to Mr. Grayson by Mr. Heathcote, who, with useful
experience of his own not far behind him, was able to show much tact.
"I am glad to meet you again, Mr. Grayson," said Mr. Goodnight, in a
large, rotund manner. "I am sorry I did not see more of you when we were
together in the House. But you were very young then, you know. Who'd
have thought that you would be so conspicuous now? I dare say you did
not expect to see us here. We business-men are usually so much engrossed
with affairs that we do not have time for politics, but there come
occasions when our help, especially our advice, is needed, and this is
one of them."
Harley saw a faint smile pass over the face of the candidate, but Jimmy
Grayson was a man of infinite tact, which, instead of being allied to
greatness, is a part of greatness itself, and he took no notice of
anything in Mr. Goodnight's words or manner. On the contrary, he
welcomed him and his associate with real warmth; he was glad to see the
great business interests of the country represented in person in the
campaign; it ought always to be so; if the solid men took more part in
the elections it would be better for all.
Every member of the committee smiled a satisfied smile and admitted that
Mr. Grayson's remarks were true. This was progress, as Harley could see.
The committee may have come with advice and reprobation in its soul, but
clearly it was placated, for the present.
"We give proof of devotion to cause," said Mr. Crayon, in his sharp,
snappy way. "Have come all the way from great financial centres to these
lonely plains. Heavy sacrifice of time. Hope it will be duly
appreciated."
"You can rest easy on that point," said Jimmy Grayson, as the faint
smile again passed over his face. "Your intentions will be taken at
their full value."
"We wish to have a long and thorough talk with you a little later on,"
said Mr. Goodnight. "The subject is one of the greatest importance, and
the age and experience of the members of this committee fit us to deal
with it."
"Undoubtedly," said Jimmy Grayson, and Harley thought that his voice was
a little dryer than usual.
Fortunately the members of the committee had their own special car,
equipped with many luxuries, and it was attached to Jimmy Grayson's
train. Hence there was no crowding and no displacing of the old
travellers, but it was clear that there were now two parties following
the candidate, since the old and the new did not coalesce. The members
of the committee showed at once that they knew themselves to be the
mainstay of the country, while the others were merely frivolous and
unstable politicians.
Sylvia, of course, was eager to know what they had said and how they
bore themselves, and Harley was anxious to gratify her.
"They said they were very great men, and they bore themselves
accordingly."
"Uncle James is a greater man than all of them put together."
"I foresee trouble," said Hobart, joyfully, to Harley a little later. "I
can feel it in the air around me, I breathe it, I can even see it."
"Hobart," said Harley, pityingly, "you only obey your instincts."
"Wherein I am a wise man," replied Hobart, with satisfaction. "I am out
here to get news, and the livelier the news the better. Now I think
that these gentlemen will soon furnish us something worth writing
about."
"I am afraid so," said Harley, despondently.
The committee was in no haste to speak. Its members dined luxuriously in
their private car, and invited to join them those whom they thought
worthy of the honor--only a very few besides the ladies. Among these was
Harley; but it was Jimmy Grayson who took him.
The conversation was exclusively commercial and financial. Mr.
Goodnight, Mr. Crayon, and their associates were well aware that the
whole science of government pertained to the development of trade, and
it was the business of a people, as well as of a man, to stick to the
main point. It was for this reason, too, that Mr. Crayon incidentally
let it be understood that he did not value a college education. He had
several university graduates working for him on small salaries, while he
had never been inside the walls of a university, and that was the
beginning and end of the matter; there could be no further discussion.
"I understand you are connected with the press," he said to Harley, who
sat in the next chair. "I should think there was not much in that; but
still, with careful, diligent man, it might serve as opening into
financial circles. You must come in contact with men of importance. I
know a man, originally a writer for press, who has risen to be a bank
cashier. Worthy fellow."