MR. CREWE: AN APPRECIATION (1)
It is given to some rare mortals--with whom fame precedes grey hairs or
baldness to read, while still on the rising tide of their efforts, that
portion of their lives which has already been inscribed on the scroll of
history--or something like it. Mr. Crewe in kilts at five; and (prophetic
picture!) with a train of cars which--so the family tradition runs--was
afterwards demolished; Mr. Crewe at fourteen, in delicate health; this
picture was taken abroad, with a long-suffering tutor who could speak
feelingly, if he would, of embryo geniuses. Even at this early period
Humphrey Crewe's thirst for knowledge was insatiable: he cared little,
the biography tells us, for galleries and churches and ruins, but his
comments upon foreign methods of doing business were astonishingly
precocious. He recommended to amazed clerks in provincial banks the use
of cheques, ridiculed to speechless station-masters the side-entrance
railway carriage with its want of room, and the size of the goods trucks.
He is said to have been the first to suggest that soda-water fountains
might be run at a large profit in London.
In college, in addition to keeping up his classical courses, he found
time to make an exhaustive study of the railroads of the United States,
embodying these ideas in a pamphlet published shortly after graduation.
This pamphlet is now, unfortunately, very rare, but the anonymous
biographer managed to get one and quote from it. If Mr. Crewe's
suggestions had been carried out, seventy-five per cent of the railroad
accidents might have been eliminated. Thorough was his watchword even
then. And even at that period he foresaw, with the prophecy of genius,
the days of single-track congestion.
His efforts to improve Leith and the State in general, to ameliorate the
condition of his neighbours, were fittingly and delicately dwelt upon. A
desire to take upon himself the burden of citizenship led--as we know--to
further self-denial. He felt called upon to go to the Legislature--and
this is what he saw:--(Mr. Crewe is quoted here at length in an
admirable, concise, and hair-raising statement given in an interview to
his biographer. But we have been with him, and know what he saw. It is,
for lack of space, reluctantly omitted.)
And now we are to take up where the biography left off; to relate, in a
chapter if possible, one of the most remarkable campaigns in the history
of this country. A certain reformer of whose acquaintance the honest
chronicler boasts (a reformer who got elected!) found, on his first visit
to the headquarters he had hired--two citizens under the influence of
liquor and a little girl with a skip rope. Such are the beginnings that
try men's souls.
The window of every independent shopkeeper in Ripton contained a
large-sized picture of the Leith statesman, his determined chin slightly
thrust down into the Gladstone collar. Underneath were the words, "I will
put an end to graft and railroad rule. I am a Candidate of the People.
Opening rally of the People's Campaign at the Opera House, at 8 P.M.,
July 10th. The Hon. Humphrey Crewe, of Leith, will tell the citizens of
Ripton how their State is governed."
"Father," said Victoria, as she read this announcement (three columns
wide, in the Ripton Record) as they sat at breakfast together, "do you
mind my going? I can get Hastings Weare to take me."
"Not at all," said Mr. Flint, who had returned from New York in a better
frame of mind. "I should like a trustworthy account of that meeting.
Only," he added, "I should advise you to go early, Victoria, in order to
get a seat."
"You don't object to my listening to criticism of you?"
"Not by Humphrey Crewe," laughed Mr. Flint.
Early suppers instead of dinners were the rule at Leith on the evening of
the historic day, and the candidate himself, in his red Leviathan, was
not inconsiderably annoyed, on the way to Ripton, by innumerable
carryalls and traps filled with brightly gowned recruits of that
organization of Mrs. Pomfret's which Beatrice Chillingham had nicknamed
"The Ladies' Auxiliary.". In vain Mr. Crewe tooted his horn: the sound of
it was drowned by the gay talk and laughter in the carryalls, and shrieks
ensued when the Leviathan cut by with only six inches to spare, and the
candidate turned and addressed the drivers in language more forceful than
polite, and told the ladies they acted as if they were going to a
Punch-and-Judy show.
"Poor dear Humphrey!" said, Mrs. Pomfret, "is so much in earnest. I
wouldn't give a snap for a man without a temper."
"Poor dear Humphrey" said Beatrice Chillingham, in an undertone to her
neighbour, "is exceedingly rude and ungrateful. That's what I think."
The occupants of one vehicle heard the horn, and sought the top of a
grassy mound to let the Leviathan go by. And the Leviathan, with
characteristic contrariness, stopped.
"Hello," said Mr. Crewe, with a pull at his cap. "I intended to be on the
lookout for you."
"That is very thoughtful, Humphrey, considering how many things you have
to be on the lookout for this evening," Victoria replied.
"That's all right," was Mr. Crewe's gracious reply. "I knew you'd be
sufficiently broad-minded to come, and I hope you won't take offence at
certain remarks I think it my duty to make."
"Don't let my presence affect you," she answered, smiling; "I have come
prepared for anything."
"I'll tell Tooting to give you a good seat," he called back, as he
started onward.
Hastings Weare looked up at her, with laughter-brimming eyes.
"Victoria, you're a wonder!" he remarked. "Say, do you remember that tall
fellow we met at Humphrey's party, Austen Vane?"
Yes."
"I saw him on the street in Ripton the other day, and he came right up
and spoke to me. He hadn't forgotten my name. Now, he'd be my notion of a
candidate. He makes you feel as if your presence in the world meant
something to him."
"I think he does feel that way," replied Victoria.
"I don't blame him if he feels that way about you," said Hastings, who
made love openly.
"Hastings," she answered, "when you get a little older, you will learn to
confine yourself to your own opinions."
"When I do," he retorted audaciously, "they never make you blush like
that."
"It's probably because you have never learned to be original," she
replied. But Hastings had been set to thinking.
Mrs. Pomfret, with her foresight and her talent for management, had given
the Ladies' Auxiliary notice that they were not to go farther forward
than the twelfth row. She herself, with some especially favoured ones,
occupied a box, which was the nearest thing to being on the stage. One
unforeseen result of Mrs. Pomfret's arrangement was that the first eleven
rows were vacant, with the exception of one old man and five or six
schoolboys. Such is the courage of humanity in general! On the arrival of
the candidate, instead of a surging crowd lining the sidewalk, he found
only a fringe of the curious, whose usual post of observation was the
railroad station, standing silently on the curb. Within, Mr. Tooting's
duties as an usher had not been onerous. He met Mr. Crewe in the
vestibule, and drew him into the private office.
"The railroad's fixed 'em," said the manager, indignantly, but sotto
voce; "I've found that out. Hilary Vane had the word passed around town
that if they came, somethin' would fall on 'em. The Tredways and all the
people who own factories served notice on their men that if they paid any
attention to this meeting they'd lose their job. But say, the people are
watchin' you, just the same."
"How many people are in there?" Mr. Crewe demanded.
"Twenty-seven, when I came out," said Mr. Tooting, with commendable
accuracy. "But it wants fifteen minutes to eight."
"And who," asked Mr. Crewe, "is to introduce me?"
An expression of indignation spread over Mr. Tooting's face.
"There ain't a man in Ripton's got sand enough!" he exclaimed. "Sol
Gridley was a-goin' to, but he went to New York on the noon train. I
guess it's a pleasure trip," Mr. Tooting hinted darkly.
"Why," said Mr. Crewe, "he's the fellow--"
"Exactly," Mr. Tooting replied, "and he did get a lot of 'em, travelling
about. But Sol has got to work on the quiet, you understand. He feels he
can't come out right away."
"And how about Amos Ricketts? Where's he?"
"Amos," said Mr. Tooting, regretfully, "was taken very sudden about five
o'clock. One of his spells come on, and he sent me word to the Ripton
House. He had his speech all made up, and it was a good one, too. He was
going to tell folks pretty straight how the railroad beat him for mayor."
Mr. Crewe made a gesture of disgust.
"I'll introduce myself," he said. "They all know me, anyhow."
"Say," said Mr. Tooting, laying a hand on his candidate's arm. "You
couldn't do any better. I've bin for that all along."
"Hold on," said Mr. Crewe, listening, "a lot of people are coming in
now."
What Mr. Crewe had heard, however, was the arrival of the Ladies'
Auxiliary,--five and thirty strong, from Leith. But stay! Who are these
coming? More ladies--ladies in groups of two and three and five! ladies
of Ripton whose husbands, for some unexplained reason, have stayed at
home; and Mr. Tooting, as he watched them with mingled feelings, became a
woman's suffragist on the spot. He dived into the private office once
more, where he found Mr. Crewe seated with his legs crossed, calmly
reading a last winter's playbill. (Note for a more complete biography.)
"Well, Tooting," he said, "I thought they'd begin to come."
"They're mostly women," Mr. Tooting informed him.
"Women!"
"Hold on!" said Mr. Tooting, who had the true showman's instinct. "Can't
you see that folks are curious? They're afraid to come 'emselves, and
they're sendin' their wives and daughters. If you get the women tonight,
they'll go home and club the men into line."
Eight strokes boomed out from the tower of the neighbouring town hall,
and an expectant flutter spread over the audience,--a flatter which
disseminated faint odours of sachet and other mysterious substances in
which feminine apparel is said to the laid away. The stage was empty,
save for a table which held a pitcher of water and a glass.
"It's a pretty good imitation of a matinee," Hastings Weare remarked. "I
wonder whom the front seats are reserved for. Say, Victoria, there's your
friend Mr. Vane in the corner. He's looking over here."
"He has a perfect right to look where he chooses," said Victoria. She
wondered whether he would come over and sit next to her if she turned
around, and decided instantly that he wouldn't. Presently, when she
thought Hastings was off his guard, she did turn, to meet, as she
expected, Austen's glance fixed upon her. Their greeting was the signal
of two people with a mutual understanding. He did not rise, and although
she acknowledged to herself a feeling of disappointment, she gave him
credit for a nice comprehension of the situation. Beside him was his
friend Tom Gaylord, who presented to her a very puzzled face. And then,
if there had been a band, it would have been time to play "See, the
Conquering Hero Comes!"
Why wasn't there a band? No such mistake, Mr. Tooting vowed, should be
made at the next rally.
It was Mrs. Pomfret who led the applause from her box as the candidate
walked modestly up the side aisle and presently appeared, alone, on the
stage. The flutter of excitement was renewed, and this time it might
almost be called a flutter of apprehension. But we who have heard Mr.
Crewe speak are in no alarm for our candidate. He takes a glass of iced
water; he arranges, with the utmost sangfroid, his notes on the desk and
adjusts the reading light. Then he steps forward and surveys the
scattered groups.
"Ladies--" a titter ran through the audience,--a titter which started
somewhere in the near neighbourhood of Mr. Hastings Weare--and rose
instantly to several hysterical peals of feminine laughter. Mrs. Pomfret,
outraged, sweeps the frivolous offenders with her lorgnette; Mr. Crewe,
with his arm resting, on the reading-desk, merely raises the palm of his
hand to a perpendicular reproof,--"and gentlemen." At this point the
audience is thoroughly cowed. "Ladies and gentlemen and fellow citizens.
I thank you for the honour you have done me in coming here to listen to
the opening speech of my campaign to-night. It is a campaign for decency
and good government, and I know that the common people of the State--of
whom I have the honour to be one--demand these things. I cannot say as
much for the so-called prominent citizens," said Mr. Crewe, glancing
about him; "not one of your prominent citizens in Ripton would venture to
offend the powers that be by consenting to introduce me to-night, or
dared come into this theatre and take seats within thirty feet of this
platform." Here Mr. Crewe let his eyes rest significantly on the eleven
empty rows, while his hearers squirmed in terrified silence at this
audacity. Even the Ripton women knew that this was high treason beneath
the walls of the citadel, and many of them glanced furtively at the
strangely composed daughter of Augustus P. Flint.
"I will show you that I can stand on my own feet," Mr. Crewe continued.
"I will introduce myself. I am Humphrey Crewe of Leith, and I claim to
have added something to the welfare and prosperity of this State, and I
intend to add more before I have finished."
At this point, as might have been expected, spontaneous applause broke
forth, originating in the right-hand stage box. Here was a daring
defiance indeed, a courage of such a high order that it completely
carried away the ladies and drew reluctant plaudits from the male
element. "Give it to 'em, Humphrey!" said one of those who happened to be
sitting next to Miss Flint, and who received a very severe pinch in the
arm in consequence.
"I thank the gentleman," answered Mr. Crewe, "and I propose to
--(Handclapping and sachet.) I propose to show that you spend something
like two hundred thousand dollars a year to elect legislators and send
'em to the capital, when the real government of your State is in a room
in the Pelican Hotel known as the Railroad Room, and the real governor is
a citizen of your town, the Honourable Hilary Vane, who sits there and
acts for his master, Mr. Augustus P. Flint of New York. And I propose to
prove to you that, before the Honourable Adam B. Hunt appeared as that
which has come to be known as the 'regular' candidate, Mr. Flint sent for
him to go to New York and exacted certain promises from him. Not that it
was necessary, but the Northeastern Railroads never take any chances.
(Laughter.) The Honourable Adam B. Hunt is what they call a 'safe' man,
meaning by that a man who will do what Mr. Flint wants him to do. While I
am not 'safe' because I have dared to defy them in your name, and will do
what the people want me to do. (Clapping and cheers from a gentleman in
the darkness, afterwards identified as Mr. Tooting.) Now, my friends, are
you going to continue to allow a citizen of New York to nominate your
governors, and do you intend, tamely, to give the Honourable Adam B. Hunt
your votes?"
"They ain't got any votes," said a voice--not that of Mr. Hastings Weare,
for it came from the depths of the gallery.
"'The hand that rocks the cradle sways the world,'" answered Mr. Crewe,
and there was no doubt about the sincerity of the applause this time.
"The campaign of the Honourable Humphrey Crewe of Leith," said the State
Tribune next day, "was inaugurated at the Opera House in Ripton last
night before an enthusiastic audience consisting of Mr. Austen Vane, Mr.
Thomas Gaylord, Jr., Mr. Hamilton Tooting, two reporters, and
seventy-four ladies, who cheered the speaker to the echo. About half of
these ladies were summer residents of Leith in charge of the well-known
social leader, Mrs. Patterson Pomfret,--an organized league which, it is
understood, will follow the candidate about the State in the English
fashion, kissing the babies and teaching the mothers hygienic cooking and
how to ondule the hair."
After speaking for an hour and a half, the Honourable Humphrey Crewe
declared that he would be glad to meet any of the audience who wished to
shake his hand, and it was Mrs. Pomfret who reached him first.
"Don't be discouraged, Humphrey,--you are magnificent," she whispered.
"Discouraged!" echoed Mr. Crewe. "You can't kill an idea, and we'll see
who's right and who's wrong before I get through with 'em."
"What a noble spirit!" Mrs. Pomfret exclaimed aside to Mrs. Chillingham.
Then she added, in a louder tone, "Ladies, if you will kindly tell me
your names, I shall be happy to introduce you to the candidate. Well,
Victoria, I didn't expect to see you here."
"Why not?" said Victoria. "Humphrey, accept my congratulations."
"Did you like it?" asked Mr. Crewe. "I thought it was a pretty good
speech myself. There's nothing like telling the truth, you know. And, by
the way, I hope to see you in a day or two, before I start for Kingston.
Telephone me when you come down to Leith."
The congratulations bestowed on the candidate by the daughter of the
president of the Northeastern Railroads quite took the breath out of the
spectators who witnessed the incident, and gave rise to the wildest
conjectures. And the admiration of Mr. Hastings Weare was unbounded.
"You've got the most magnificent nerve I ever saw, Victoria," he
exclaimed, as they made their way towards the door.
"You forget Humphrey," she replied.
Hastings looked at her and chuckled. In fact, he chuckled all the way
home. In the vestibule they met Mr. Austen Vane and Mr. Thomas Gaylord,
the latter coming forward with a certain palpable embarrassment. All
through the evening Tom had been trying to account for her presence at
the meeting, until Austen had begged him to keep his speculations to
himself. "She can't be engaged to him!" Mr. Gaylord had exclaimed more
than once, under his breath. "Why not?" Austen had answered; "there's a
good deal about him to admire." "Because she's got more sense," said Tom
doggedly. Hence he was at a loss for words when she greeted him.
"Well, Mr. Gaylord," she said, "you see no bones were broken, after all.
But I appreciated your precaution in sending the buggy behind me,
although it wasn't necessary.
"I felt somewhat responsible," replied Tom, and words failed him. "Here's
Austen Vane," he added, indicating by a nod of the head the obvious
presence of that gentleman. "You'll excuse me. There's a man here I want
to see."
"What's the matter with Mr. Gaylord?" Victoria asked. "He seems so
--queer."
They were standing apart, alone, Hastings Weare having gone to the
stables for the runabout.
"Mr. Gaylord imagines he doesn't get along with the opposite sex," Austen
replied, with just a shade of constraint.
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Victoria; "we got along perfectly the other day
when he rescued me from the bushes. What's the matter with him?"
Austen laughed, and their eyes met.
"I think he is rather surprised to see you here," he said.
"And you?" returned Victoria. "Aren't you equally out of place?"
He did not care to go into an explanation of Tom's suspicion in regard to
Mr. Crewe.
"My curiosity was too much for me," he replied, smiling.
"So was mine," she replied, and suddenly demanded: "What did you think of
Humphrey's speech?"
Their eyes met. And despite the attempted seriousness of her tone they
joined in an irresistible and spontaneous laughter. They were again on
that plane of mutual understanding and intimacy for which neither could
account.
"I have no criticism to make of Mr. Crewe as an orator, at least," he
said.
Then she grew serious again, and regarded him steadfastly.
"And--what he said?" she asked.
Austen wondered again at the courage she had displayed. All he had been
able to think of in the theatre, while listening to Mr. Crewe's words of
denunciation of the Northeastern Railroads, had been of the effect they
might have on Victoria's feelings, and from time to time he had glanced
anxiously at her profile. And now, looking into her face, questioning,
trustful--he could not even attempt to evade. He was silent.
"I shouldn't have asked you that," she said. "One reason I came was
because--because I wanted to hear the worst. You were too considerate to
tell me--all."
He looked mutely into her eyes, and a great desire arose in him to be
able to carry her away from it all. Many times within the past year, when
the troubles and complications of his life had weighed upon him, his
thoughts had turned to, that Western country, limited only by the bright
horizons where the sun rose and set. If he could only take her there, or
into his own hills, where no man might follow them! It was a primeval
longing, and, being a woman and the object of it, she saw its essential
meaning in his face. For a brief moment they stood as completely alone as
on the crest of Sawanec.
"Good night," she said, in a low voice.
He did not trust himself to speak at once, but went down the steps with
her to the curb, where Hastings Weare was waiting in the runabout.
"I was just telling Miss Flint," said that young gentleman, "that you
would have been my candidate."
Austen's face relaxed.
"Thank you, Mr. Weare," he said simply; and to Victoria, "Good night."
At the corner, when she turned, she saw him still standing on the edge of
the sidewalk, his tall figure thrown into bold relief by the light which
flooded from the entrance. The account of the Ripton meeting,
substantially as it appeared in the State Tribune, was by a singular
coincidence copied at once into sixty-odd weekly newspapers, and must
have caused endless merriment throughout the State. Congressman
Fairplay's prophecy of "negligible" was an exaggeration, and one
gentleman who had rashly predicted that Mr. Crewe would get twenty
delegates out of a thousand hid himself for shame. On the whole, the
"monumental farce" forecast seemed best to fit the situation. A
conference was held at Leith between the candidate, Mr. Tooting, and the
Honourable Timothy Watling of Newcastle, who was preparing the nominating
speech, although the convention was more than two months distant. Mr.
Watling was skilled in rounded periods of oratory and in other things
political; and both he and Mr. Tooting reiterated their opinion that
there was no particle of doubt about Mr. Crewe's nomination.
"But we'll have to fight fire with fire," Mr. Tooting declared. It was
probably an accident that he happened to kick, at this instant, Mr.
Watling under cover of the table. Mr. Watling was an old and valued
friend.
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Crewe, "I haven't the slightest doubt of my
nomination, either. I do not hesitate to say, however, that the expenses
of this campaign, at this early stage, seem to me out of all proportion.
Let me see what you have there."
The Honourable Timothy Wading had produced a typewritten list containing
some eighty towns and wards, each followed by a name and the number of
the delegates therefrom--and figures.
"They'd all be enthusiastic Crewe men--if they could be seen by the right
party," declared Mr. Tooting.
Mr. Crewe ran his eye over the list.
"Whom would you suggest to see 'em?" he asked coldly.
"There's only one party I know of that has much influence over 'em," Mr.
Tooting replied, with a genial but deferential indication of his friend.
At this point Mr. Crewe's secretary left the room on an errand, and the
three statesmen went into executive session. In politics, as in charity,
it is a good rule not to let one's right hand know what the left hand
doeth. Half an hour later the three emerged into the sunlight, Mr.
Tooting and Mr. Watling smoking large cigars.
"You've got a great lay-out here, Mr. Crewe," Mr. Watling remarked. "It
must have stood you in a little money, eh? Yes, I'll get mileage books,
and you'll hear from me every day or two."
And now we are come to the infinitely difficult task of relating in a
whirlwind manner the story of a whirlwind campaign--a campaign that was
to make the oldest resident sit up and take notice. In the space of four
short weeks a miracle had begun to show itself. First, there was the
Kingston meeting, with the candidate, his thumb in his watch-pocket,
seated in an open carriage beside Mr. Hamilton Tooting,--a carriage
draped with a sheet on which was painted "Down with Railroad Ring Rule."
The carriage was preceded by the Kingston Brass Band, producing throbbing
martial melodies, and followed (we are not going to believe the State
Tribune any longer) by a jostling' and cheering crowd. The band halts
before the G.A.R. Hall; the candidate alights, with a bow of
acknowledgment, and goes to the private office until the musicians are
seated in front of the platform, when he enters to renewed cheering and
the tune of "See, the Conquering Hero Comes!"
An honest historian must admit that there were two accounts of this
meeting. Both agree that Mr. Crewe introduced himself, and poured a
withering sarcasm on the heads of Kingston's prominent citizens. One
account, which the ill-natured declared to be in Mr. Tooting's style, and
which appeared (in slightly larger type than that of the other columns)
in the Kingston and local papers, stated that the hall was crowded to
suffocation, and that the candidate was "accorded an ovation which lasted
for fully five minutes."
Mr. Crewe's speech was printed--in this slightly larger type. Woe to the
Honourable Adam B. Hunt, who had gone to New York to see whether he could
be governor! Why didn't he come out on the platform? Because he couldn't.
"Safe" candidates couldn't talk. His subservient and fawning reports on
accidents while chairman of the Railroad Commission were ruthlessly
quoted (amid cheers and laughter). What kind of railroad service was
Kingston getting compared to what it should have? Compared, indeed, to
what it had twenty years ago? An informal reception was held afterwards.
More meetings followed, at the rate of four a week, in county after
county. At the end of fifteen days a selectman (whose name will go down
in history) voluntarily mounted the platform and introduced the
Honourable Humphrey Crewe to the audience; not, to be sure, as the
saviour of the State; and from that day onward Mr. Crewe did not lack for
a sponsor. On the other hand, the sponsors became more pronounced, and at
Harwich (a free-thinking district) a whole board of selectmen and five
prominent citizens sat gravely beside the candidate in the town hall.
(1) Paul Pardriff, Ripton. Sent post free, on application, to voters and
others.
End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Crewe's Career, Book II., by Winston Churchill