The instant change in the atmosphere of the capital, the instant outcry
from the organs of both parties that "the people had voted for reform,
not for confiscatory revolution," completed my demonstration. My clients
realized who was master of the machines. The threatening storm rapidly
scattered; the people, relieved that the Silliman program of upheaval
was not to be carried out, were glad enough to see the old
"conservative" order restored,--our people always reason that it is
better to rot slowly by corruption than to be frightened to death by
revolution.
"Hereafter, we must trust to your judgment in these political matters,
Harvey," said Roebuck. "The manager must be permitted to manage."
I smiled at the ingenuousness of this speech. It did not ruffle me.
Roebuck was one of those men who say their prayers in a patronizing
tone.
Yes, I was master. But it is only now, in the retrospect of years, that
I have any sense of triumph; for I had won the supremacy with small
effort, comparatively,--with the small effort required of him who sees
the conditions of a situation clearly, and, instead of trying to combat
or to change them, intelligently uses them to his ends. Nor do I now
regard my achievement as marvelous. Everything was in my favor; against
me, there was nothing,--no organization, no plan, no knowledge of my
aim. I wonder how much of their supernal glory would be left to the
world's men of action, from its Alexanders and Napoleons down to its
successful bandits and ward-bosses, if mankind were in the habit of
looking at what the winner had opposed to him,--Alexander faced only by
flocks of sheep-like Asiatic slaves; Napoleon routing the badly trained,
wretchedly officered soldiers of decadent monarchies; and the bandit or
ward-boss overcoming peaceful and unprepared and unorganized citizens.
Who would erect statues or write eulogies to a man for mowing a field of
corn-stalks with a scythe? Mankind is never more amusing than in its
hero-worship.
No, I should simply have been stupid had I failed.
But--even had I been disposed to rein in and congratulate myself at the
quarter-stretch, I could not have done it. A man has, perhaps, some
choice as to his mount before he enters the race for success. But once
in the saddle and off, he must let the reins go; his control is confined
to whip and spur.