"You've played politics only in your own state or against the Eastern
crowd, these last few years," he went on, as if in answer to my
thoughts. "You don't realize what a hold Scarborough's got through the
entire West. He has split your party and the machine of his own in our
state, and they know all about him and his doings in the states to the
west. The people like a fellow that knocks out the regulars."
"A good many call him a demagogue, don't they?" said I.
"Yes--and he is, in sort of a way," replied Merriweather. "But--well,
he's got a knack of telling the truth so that it doesn't scare folks.
And he's managed to convince them that he isn't looking out for number
one. It can't be denied that he made a good governor. For instance, he
got after the monopolies, and the cost of living is twenty per cent.
lower in Indiana than just across the line in Ohio."
"Then I should say that all the large interests in the country would
line up against him," said I.
"Every one," said Merriweather, and an expression of understanding
flitted across his face. He went on: "But it ain't much use talking
about him. He couldn't get the nomination--at least, it wouldn't be easy
to get it for him."
"I suppose not," said I. "That's a job for a first-class man--and
they're rare." And I shook hands with him.
About a week later he returned, and tried to make a report to me. But I
sent him away, treating him very formally. I appreciated that, being an
experienced and capable man, he knew the wisdom of getting intimately in
touch with his real employer; but, as I had my incomparable Woodruff,
better far than I at the rough work of politics, there was no necessity
for my entangling myself. Merriweather went to Woodruff, and Woodruff
reported to me--Scarborough's friends in Indianapolis all agreed that
he did not want the nomination and would not have it.
"We must force it on him," said I. "We must have Scarborough."
Immediately after Burbank's nomination, Goodrich concentrated upon
nominating Judge Simpson. He had three weeks, and he worked hard and
well. I think he overdid it in the editorials in our party organs under
his influence in New York, Boston and other eastern cities--never a day
without lugubrious screeds on the dismal outlook for Burbank if the
other party should put up Simpson. But his Simpson editorials in big
opposition papers undoubtedly produced an effect. I set for De Milt and
his bureau of underground publicity the task of showing up, as far as it
was prudent to expose intimate politics to the public, Goodrich and his
crowd and their conspiracy with Beckett and his crowd to secure the
opposition nomination for a man of the same offensive type as Cromwell.
And I directed Woodruff to supply Silliman and Merriweather and that
department of my "bi-partizan" machine with all the money they wanted.
"They can't spend much to advantage at this late day except for
traveling expenses," said I. "Our best plan, anyhow, is good honest
missionary work with the honest men of the other party who wish to see
its best man nominated."
While Goodrich's agents and Beckett's agents were industriously
arranging the eastern machinery of the opposition party for Simpson,
Merriweather had Silliman's men toiling in the West and South to get
Rundle delegates or uninstructed delegations. And, after our
conversation, he was reinforced by Woodruff and such men of his staff as
could be used without suspicion. Woodruff himself could permeate like an
odorless gas; you knew he was there only by the results. Nothing could
be done for Rundle in his own state; but the farther away from his home
our men got, the easier it was to induce--by purchase and otherwise--the
politicians of his party to think well of him. This the more because
they regarded Simpson as a "stuff" and a "stiff"--and they weren't far
wrong.
"It may not be Scarborough, and it probably won't be Rundle," Woodruff
said in his final report to me, "but it certainly won't be Simpson.
He's the dead one, no matter how well he does on the first ballot."
But I would not let him give me the details--the story of shrewd and
slippery plots, stratagems, surprises. "I am worn out, mind and body,"
said I in apology for my obvious weariness and indifference.
For six months I had been incessantly at work. The tax upon memory
alone, to say nothing of the other faculties, had been crushing. Easy as
political facts always were for me, I could not lightly bear the strain
of keeping constantly in mind not merely the outlines, but also hundreds
of the details, of the political organizations of forty-odd states with
all their counties. And the tax on memory was probably the least. Then
added to all my political work was business care; for while I was
absorbed in politics, Ed Ramsay had badly muddled the business. Nor had
I, like Burbank and Woodruff, the power to empty my mind as I touched
the pillow and so to get eight hours of unbroken rest each night.
Woodruff began asking me for instructions. But my judgment was
uncertain, and my imagination barren. "Do as you think best," said I. "I
must rest. I've reached my limit,"--my limit of endurance of the sights
and odors and befoulings of these sewers of politics I must in person
adventure in order to reach my goal. I must pause and rise to the
surface for a breath of decent air or I should not have the strength to
finish these menial and even vile tasks which no man can escape if he is
a practical leader in the practical activities of practical life.