A NIGHT ALARM
“A crown for your thoughts, Professor!” said General Mainwarren to
Professor Dean, as the latter sat thoughtfully watching the dancers.
The Professor aroused himself with a slight start.
“Oh, I was allowing my thoughts to drift idly in many currents,” he
answered.
“For instance, if it is not impertinent to inquire?”
“Well, I was marveling at the beauty, the luxury and the splendor
of all this, and thinking what it must cost to keep up. The thought
occurred to me that the cost of this one ball”--and the Professor shot
a sharp glance at General Mainwarren--“would probably be sufficient
to keep warm all the poor people in your district who are likely
to suffer, according to what you told us, for coal this Winter, in
addition to supplying every poor child with a Christmas box.”
“A Christmas box!” exclaimed General Mainwarren. “What a quaint
reminiscence wafted to us from the past!”
“How do you mean--‘a quaint reminiscence’?”
“Why, my dear Professor, Christmas boxes are with us as much a thing
of the past as the curfew bell, knights in armor, or any of the other
customs of mediæval times.”
“How came this kindly practice to be abolished?” asked the Professor
blankly.
“Kindly!” repeated General Mainwarren. “I can’t agree with you. The
custom was discontinued long ago by the wealthier classes and the rest
of the people gradually followed. It was one of the few good acts which
the rich have done for the poor; one of the many features in which our
social organization of to-day excels yours.”
“But what leads you to this view?”
“Why,” explained General Mainwarren, “your giving of Christmas presents
was nothing less than the refinement of cruelty upon a colossal scale.
Think of the tens of thousands of heart yearnings and of heart aches
which must have been caused in your day owing to this custom. It was
all very nice for the well-to-do, but think of the tens of thousands
who felt forced to give what they couldn’t afford; of those who wished
to give but could not; of those--especially little children--who hoped
to receive and were disappointed. Think of the destitute father looking
upon his children as they wistfully watched the toys and presents
received by more fortunate playfellows. What were the feelings in that
parent’s heart, what the feelings of the child’s? Ah! your Christmas
was a cruel time and your custom a cruel one.”
“Viewed in that light,” answered Professor Dean gravely, “I will admit
there are grounds for your criticism. You say there are other features
of improvement. Tell me of them. I’m interested.”
“The subject is rather too extensive to go into at the present time,”
answered General Mainwarren, “but I’ll mention one or two instances
which happen to come to my mind at the moment. Take our newspapers, for
example. We don’t allow our newspapers to promote national blindness
as in your day. The smallest size of type which may be used, as also
numerous other details as to the printing of a newspaper, are carefully
regulated by law in the interests of the public eyesight.”
“Not at all a bad idea!” commented the Professor.
“Then, again, take our attitude toward drunkenness. We have recognized
that what drove men to frenzy in drink and largely promoted drunkenness
was not so much the liquor itself as the adulterations in the liquor.
Our methods of inspection of all liquors publicly sold, as also of the
public food supply, are very elaborate, and our laws on the subject of
adulteration are extremely stringent. In this respect, I am glad to
say, our people are immeasurably better off than were the people of
your day.”
“You speak in a kindly way of the people and seem to have their welfare
at heart,” ventured the Professor. “This being so, I am astonished that
you don’t reverse your policy.”
“My policy----?”
“As to the restriction of the coal supply.”
General Mainwarren started slightly.
“I must ask you to excuse me from discussing that,” he answered,
somewhat stiffly.
“Very well,” said the Professor, slightly nettled, “but there is one
other point upon which I think I have a right to receive your answer.
It is this: Under Colonel Cuming’s roof, you will remember, you
somewhat bitterly arraigned the men of my day.”
“Yes; I remember perfectly,” replied General Mainwarren. “Conceding
that the mass of people have certain rights, I claimed that the
responsibility for present conditions lies with the people of your day,
because they did not check the tendency of events in their incipiency.
Of course,” he added cautiously, “I haven’t accepted as correct your
views as to these rights. It was purely an academic discussion and I
conceded your point simply for the sake of argument.”
“I understand the point you make,” rejoined the Professor. “I was taken
somewhat unawares at the time, but the matter has been rankling in my
mind since. May I ask what were the methods which you later critics
think we might have adopted to this end?”
“My dear Professor,” protested General Mainwarren, “that’s a subject
which to treat fully would call for most extended discussion. Suffice
it to say, that in those days the people had the free exercise of the
ballot and with their votes they could have done pretty well what they
pleased.”
“Ah, you really think so!” exclaimed the Professor with some sarcasm.
“You forget our great political machines, and that they practically
controlled affairs; substantially, even if covertly, directing the
so-called will of the people!”
“I’m fully aware of that,” answered General Mainwarren, “but the man
who stands idly beneath a tree, with open mouth, awaiting the fruit
to drop, is apt to go away disappointed. What was needed was a slow,
steady, methodical education of the people, which would have placed
them upon a higher plane. With eyes fully opened to the situation,
they would have been superior to the two great political machines.
There seems to have been no steady, earnest, well-directed effort to
accomplish this--no one to undertake it!”
“How might this have been done?” questioned the Professor.
“Oh, in various ways.”
“Tell me one?”
“Since you insist, my dear Professor,” answered the General, “I’ll
point out one way which has been suggested and which I had the
pleasure of discussing some time ago with one of our most eminent
sociologists, Doctor Arthur Melbourne.”
“I’m all interest!” exclaimed the Professor. “That way was?”
“You have intimated,” continued General Mainwarren, “that the
political machines held the voters so securely that the power of these
professional politicians could not be overthrown by any opposition
which was started against them. You have not said, but I know it,
that such desultory opposition as was tried from time to time always
met with discouragement and defeat. Nor have you pointed out that
the leaders who controlled these two great political machines were
themselves controlled by the moneyed powers of the land, who stood
in the background and pulled the strings which moved the puppets.
This--all this--is well realized and understood by the student of
to-day.”
“Let us concede these facts,” rejoined the Professor; “but what then?”
“It has been suggested,” continued General Mainwarren, “that a wise
course for patriotic leaders of your day would have been to have
abandoned the hope of converting and securing the grown voters as a
body. It would have been best for them, at a given time, to have said:
‘Beginning from to-day, we will pay no attention to any male who is
more than fifteen years of age and who is now, or within the next six
years will be, entitled to a vote. But we will direct all efforts to
an entirely new body of suffragists.’ They should then have turned
their attention to the _women of the land_, to the mothers of future
generations of voters. It has been said that ‘Every woman is at heart
a royalist!’ It could with equal truth be said, ‘Every woman is by
nature a politician.’ It is true that women, as a body, appear to
devote little interest to politics, but this is because few women have
been given opportunity of acquiring any knowledge on the subject, or
of taking active part in such matters. But whenever woman has had such
opportunity, she has shown herself to be an ardent politician. Look
at the influence exerted politically by various women of whom history
speaks. Take it even in your own day. Whenever there happened to be
some movement--say a moral reform movement--in which the women of the
country took an active interest, as they did now and again, did it not
invariably happen that that movement was successful at the polls?”
The Professor reflected a moment.
“Yes,” he answered; “the facts show that you are correct as to this.”
“There, then,” continued General Mainwarren, “lay the hope and the
chance of your patriotic leaders. They should have started missionary
work upon a comprehensive scale among the women of the land. They
should have educated womankind politically--have indicated to woman
where and why the shoe pinched and what was the remedy. She should have
been shown that the remedy lay in the generations of voters to come and
that those generations were directly under her influence and in her
keeping.”
“I begin to see your drift,” said the Professor thoughtfully.
“Meetings should have been held for the instruction of women; political
clubs maintained; and literature circulated for them which was
sufficiently light, clear and instructive. ‘Do you want your sons to
struggle on under the same blighting, toilsome conditions as their
fathers struggled?’ should have been the watchword, and it would
have been a watchword to which the maternal heart would eagerly have
responded. The women would have educated their children--not merely
the boys but also the girls who were to become the wives of future
voters--and within a very few years you would have had a new generation
of voters sufficiently powerful and sufficiently well-instructed to
have bid the old political machines open and successful defiance. With
the women of the land lay one of your great chances, but that chance
you utterly neglected.”
The Professor was about to reply when the voice of Kearns, who had been
in conversation with Colonel Cuming, broke in upon them:
“Excuse me, Professor,” he exclaimed, “but I see their Majesties have
long since retired and the ball-room is beginning to thin out somewhat.
Isn’t it time we went? No doubt all this life and go and all these
beautiful ladies are very interesting to you--in spite of your hundred
years--but you must remember that I have work before me to-morrow. I’m
no longer a gentleman of leisure, you know.”
Before the Professor could reply, Colonel Cuming again addressed
Kearns, directing his attention to some personage in the ball-room, and
the Professor turned to General Mainwarren.
“No longer a gentleman of leisure,” he said, rather sadly; “that, too,
was one of the subjects in my mind. I was thinking what I should turn
to--what place I could find, if any--in this new world into which I
have tumbled. Our friend, Kearns, has been fortunate in finding his
old-time cunning in demand, even at the hands of kings. But I wonder
if I can in these days profitably resume my former researches and
work. Would there be any demand for the various inventions I have in
mind--my air-ship, for instance?”
General Mainwarren started perceptibly.
“Professor Dean,” he said gravely, “I have had a high regard for you
from the moment of our first meeting. In fact, long before that your
name was known to me and your attainments in the domain of science held
my respect. Ah, Professor, you have probably done for the world more
than you know!”
“Come, come, General!” exclaimed the Professor, “this is sheer
flattery. You are amusing yourself at my expense, I fear. I hardly
expected this of you.”
“I speak only the truth!” said the General solemnly.
“We will let that pass,” replied the Professor somewhat testily. “You
have not yet answered my question. Do you think the invention I have
mentioned would find any market in these days?”
“I was coming to that point,” answered General Mainwarren. “I see
no reason why your--your--invention when completed should not yield
beneficial results.”
“Completed!” replied the Professor, “as far as that is concerned, it is
substantially completed.”
“Perfected!” exclaimed General Mainwarren, with an air of astonishment.
“Yes,” replied the Professor.
“You could in--in--a comparatively short time,” resumed General
Mainwarren, “turn out a practical air-ship! Do you mean this?”
“Absolutely,” replied the Professor confidently.
General Mainwarren reflected for some moments.
“Professor Dean,” he said presently, “I’ll make you a proposition.
Under these new conditions you need someone to guide your efforts and
to properly market the product of your brain. I invite you to come
with me to Pennsylvania, and pursue your researches and your work.
It will be a mutual enterprise. As for the terms, there will be no
difference between us as to that; they shall be of your own making.”
“You mean this?” exclaimed the Professor in astonishment.
“Positively,” answered General Mainwarren firmly; “I make you this
as an offer. You are to pursue your researches and your work at your
leisure and I am to supply such funds, or other promotive assistance,
as may be needed. The benefits accruing we’ll share jointly, upon
such terms as you yourself shall dictate. It’s a simple business
proposition. Do you accept?”
“The conditions are certainly most liberal!” exclaimed the Professor.
“I----”
“Why, then, do you hesitate?”
“May I ask when this offer is to go into effect?”
“Immediately.”
“Ah,” exclaimed the Professor deprecatingly, “I don’t want to leave my
friend Kearns so suddenly. I must ask for some time in which to reach a
decision.”
“By all means,” answered General Mainwarren, “but I ask it as a
condition that you will not enter into any negotiation or discussion
on this subject with outsiders until you have given me an answer. In
a word, you are to treat this proposition as entirely confidential
between us. Have I your word for this?”
The words had scarcely left General Mainwarren’s lips and before
the Professor could make reply, there came from the grounds outside
the palace the sharp blast of a bugle, hoarse shouts of command and
the sounds of moving men. In an instant the scene in the ball-room
changed from one of gayety and frivolity to earnestness, joined to some
confusion. Military officers quitted their partners and hurried forth,
while the beautifully gowned women looked into one another’s faces
with questioning glances. The diplomats gathered in little groups,
exchanging whispers. A current of unrest, of uneasiness, had suddenly
swept over the brilliant scene--a general presentiment that something
momentous had happened.
Again the bugles pealed forth, with a roll of drums in the distance.
Still the guests sat, or stood, looking askance into one another’s
faces. The music stopped.
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. It seemed as if the familiar
words might be paraphrased: “Uneasy are those who live within the
shadow of a throne.”
A messenger entered the ball-room and, glancing about him, made his way
to where Kearns sat. There was agitation in his manner and his words
came sharp and terse:
“You are commanded, sir, to repair at once to His Majesty’s chamber.”