Mr. CREWE ASSAULTS THE CAPITAL
Those portions of the biographies of great men which deal with the small
beginnings of careers are always eagerly devoured, and for this reason
the humble entry of Mr. Crewe into politics may be of interest. Great
revolutions have had their origins in back cellars; great builders of
railroads have begun life with packs on their shoulders, trudging over
the wilderness which they were to traverse in after years in private
cars. The history of Napoleon Bonaparte has not a Sunday-school moral,
but we can trace therein the results of industry after the future emperor
got started. Industry, and the motto "nil desperandum" lived up to, and
the watchword "thorough," and a torch of unsuspected genius, and
"l'audace, toujours l'audace," and a man may go far in life.
Mr. Humphrey Crewe possessed, as may have been surmised, a dash of all
these gifts. For a summary of his character one would not have used the
phrase (as a contemporary of his remarked) of "a shrinking violet." The
phrase, after all, would have fitted very few great men; genius is sure
of itself, and seeks its peers.
The State capital is an old and beautiful and somewhat conservative town.
Life there has its joys and sorrows and passions, its ambitions, and
heart-burnings, to be sure; a most absorbing novel could be written about
it, and the author need not go beyond the city limits or approach the
state-house or the Pelican Hotel. The casual visitor in that capital
leaves it with a sense of peace, the echo of church bells in his ear, and
(if in winter) the impression of dazzling snow. Comedies do not
necessarily require a wide stage, nor tragedies an amphitheatre for their
enactment.
No casual visitor, for instance, would have suspected from the faces or
remarks of the inhabitants whom he chanced to meet that there was
excitement in the capital over the prospective arrival of Mr. Humphrey
Crewe for the legislative session that winter. Legislative sessions, be
it known, no longer took place in the summer, a great relief to Mr. Crewe
and to farmers in general, who wished to be at home in haying time.
The capital abounded in comfortable homes and boasted not a dwellings of
larger pretensions. Chief among these was the Duncan house--still so
called, although Mr. Duncan, who built it, had been dead these fifteen
years, and his daughter and heiress, Janet, had married an Italian
Marquis and lived in a Roman palace, rehabilitated by the Duncan money.
Mr. Duncan, it may be recalled by some readers of "Coniston," had been a
notable man in his day, who had married the heiress of the State, and was
president of the Central Railroad, now absorbed in the United
Northeastern. The house was a great square of brick, with a wide cornice,
surrounded by a shaded lawn; solidly built, in the fashion of the days
when rich people stayed at home, with a conservatory and a library that
had once been Mr. Duncan's pride. The Marchesa cared very little about
the library, or about the house, for that matter; a great aunt and uncle,
spinster and bachelor, were living in it that winter, and they vacated
for Mr. Crewe. He travelled to the capital on the legislative pass the
Northeastern Railroads had so kindly given him, and brought down his
horses and his secretary and servants from Leith a few days before the
first of January, when the session was to open, and laid out his bills
for the betterment of the State on that library table where Mr. Duncan
had lovingly thumbed his folios. Mr. Crewe, with characteristic
promptitude, set his secretary to work to make a list of the persons of
influence in the town, preparatory to a series of dinner-parties; he
dropped into the office of Mr. Ridout, the counsel of the Northeastern
and of the Winona Corporation in the capital, to pay his respects as a
man of affairs, and incidentally to leave copies of his bills for the
improvement of the State. Mr. Ridout was politely interested, and
promised to read the bills, and agreed that they ought to pass.
Mr. Crewe also examined the Pelican Hotel, so soon to be a hive, and
stood between the snow-banks in the capital park contemplating the statue
of the great statesman there, and repeating to himself the quotation
inscribed beneath. "The People's Government, made for the People, made by
the People, and answerable to the People." And he wondered, idly,--for
the day was not cold,--how he would look upon a pedestal with the
Gladstone collar and the rough woollen coat that would lend themselves so
readily to reproduction in marble. Stranger things had happened, and
grateful States had been known to reward benefactors.
At length comes the gala night of nights,--the last of the old year,--and
the assembling of the five hundred legislators and of the army that is
wont to attend them. The afternoon trains, steaming hot, are crowded to
the doors, the station a scene of animation, and Main Street, dazzling in
snow, is alive with a stream of men, with eddies here and there at the
curbs and in the entries. What handshaking, and looking over of new
faces, and walking round and round! What sightseeing by the country
members and their wives who have come to attend the inauguration of the
new governor, the Honourable Asa P. Gray! There he is, with the whiskers
and the tall hat and the comfortable face, which wears already a look of
gubernatorial dignity and power. He stands for a moment in the lobby of
the Pelican Hotel,--thronged now to suffocation,--to shake hands genially
with new friends, who are led up by old friends with two fingers on the
elbow. The old friends crack jokes and whisper in the ear of the
governor-to-be, who presently goes upstairs, accompanied by the
Honourable Hilary Vane, to the bridal suite, which is reserved for him,
and which has fire-proof carpet on the floor. The Honourable Hilary has a
room next door, connecting with the new governor's by folding doors, but
this fact is not generally known to country members. Only old timers,
like Bijah Bixby and Job Braden, know that the Honourable Hilary's room
corresponds to one which in the old Pelican was called the Throne Room,
Number Seven, where Jethro Bass sat in the old days and watched
unceasingly the groups in the street from the window.
But Jethro Bass has been dead these twenty years, and his lieutenants
shorn of power. An empire has arisen out of the ashes of the ancient
kingdoms. Bijah and Job are old, all-powerful still in Clovelly and
Leith--influential still in their own estimations; still kicking up their
heels behind, still stuttering and whispering into ears, still "going
along by when they are talking sly." But there are no guerrillas now, no
condottieri who can be hired: the empire has a paid and standing army, as
an empire should. The North Country chiefs, so powerful in the clan
warfare of bygone days, are generals now,--chiefs of staff. The
captain-general, with a minute piece of Honey Dew under his tongue, sits
in Number Seven. A new Number Seven,--with electric lights and a bathroom
and a brass bed. Tempora mutantur. There is an empire and a feudal
system, did one but know it. The clans are part of the empire, and each
chief is responsible for his clan--did one but know it. One doesn't know
it.
The Honourable Brush Bascom, Duke of Putnam, member of the House, has
arrived unostentatiously--as is his custom--and is seated in his own
headquarters, number ten (with a bathroom). Number nine belongs from year
to year to Mr. Manning, division superintendent of that part of the
Northeastern which was the old Central,--a thin gentleman with
side-whiskers. He loves life in the capital so much that he takes his
vacations there in the winter,--during the sessions of the Legislature,
--presumably because it is gay. There are other rooms, higher up, of
important men, to be sure, but to enter which it is not so much of an
honour. The Honourable Bill Fleming, postmaster of Brampton in Truro
(Ephraim Prescott being long since dead and Brampton a large place now),
has his vacation during the session in room thirty-six (no bathroom); and
the Honourable Elisha Jane, Earl of Haines County in the North Country,
and United States consul somewhere, is home on his annual vacation in
room fifty-nine (no bath). Senator Whitredge has a room, and Senator
Green, and Congressmen Eldridge and Fairplay (no baths, and only
temporary).
The five hundred who during the next three months are to register the
laws find quarters as best they can. Not all of them are as luxurious as
Mr. Crewe in the Duncan house, or the Honourable Brush Bascom in number
ten of the Pelican, the rent of either of which would swallow the
legislative salary in no time. The Honourable Nat Billings, senator from
the Putnam County district, is comfortably installed, to be sure. By
gradual and unexplained degrees, the constitution of the State has been
changed until there are only twenty senators. Noble five hundred!
Steadfast twenty!
A careful perusal of the biographies of great men of the dynamic type
leads one to the conclusion that much of their success is due to an
assiduous improvement of every opportunity,--and Mr. Humphrey Crewe
certainly possessed this quality, also. He is in the Pelican Hotel this
evening, meeting the men that count. Mr. Job Braden, who had come down
with the idea that he might be of use in introducing the new member from
Leith to the notables, was met by this remark:--"You can't introduce me
to any of 'em--they all know who I am. Just point any of 'em out you
think I ought to know, and I'll go up and talk to 'em. What? Come up to
my house after a while and smoke a cigar. The Duncan house, you know--the
big one with the conservatory."
Mr. Crewe was right--they all knew him. The Leith millionaire, the summer
resident, was a new factor in politics, and the rumours of the size of
his fortune had reached a high-water mark in the Pelican Hotel that
evening. Pushing through the crowd in the corridor outside the bridal
suite waiting to shake hands with the new governor, Mr. Crewe gained an
entrance in no time, and did not hesitate to interrupt the somewhat
protracted felicitations of an Irish member of the Newcastle delegation.
"How are you, Governor?" he said, with the bonhomie of a man of the
world. "I'm Humphrey Crewe, from Leith. You got a letter from me, didn't
you, congratulating you upon your election? We didn't do badly for you up
there. What?"
"How do you do, Mr. Crewe?" said Mr. Gray, with dignified hospitality,
while their fingers slid over each other's; "I'm glad to welcome you
here. I've noticed the interest you've taken in the State, and the number
of ahem--very useful societies to which you belong."
"Good," said Mr. Crewe, "I do what I can. I just dropped in to shake your
hand, and to say that I hope we'll pull together."
The governor lifted his eyebrows a little.
"Why, I hope so, I'm sere, Mr. Crewe," said he.
"I've looked over the policy of the State for the last twenty years in
regard to public improvements and the introduction of modern methods as
concerns husbandry, and I find it deplorable. You and I, Governor, live
in a progressive age, and we can't afford not to see something done.
What? It is my desire to do what I can to help make your administration a
notable advance upon those of your predecessors."
"Why--I greatly appreciate it, Mr. Crewe," said Mr. Gray.
"I'm sure you do. I've looked over your record, and I find you've had
experience in State affairs, and that you are a successful and
conservative business man. That is the type we want--eh? Business men.
You've read over the bills I sent you by registered mail?"
"Ahem," said Mr. Gray, "I've been a good deal occupied since election
day, Mr. Crewe."
"Read 'em," said Mr. Crewe, "and I'll call in on you at the state-house
day after to-morrow at five o'clock promptly. We'll discuss 'em,
Governor, and if, by the light of your legislative experience, you have
any suggestions to make, I shall be glad to hear 'em. Before putting the
bills in their final shape I've taken the trouble to go over them with my
friend, Mr. Flint--our mutual friend, let us say."
"I've had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Flint," said Mr. Gray. "I--ahem
--can't say that I know him intimately."
Mr. Crewe looked at Mr. Gray in a manner which plainly indicated that he
was not an infant.
"My relations with Mr. Flint and the Northeastern have been very
pleasant," said Mr. Crewe. "I may say that I am somewhat of a practical
railroad and business man myself."
"We need such men," said Mr. Gray. "Why, how do you do, Cary? How are the
boys up in Wheeler?"
"Well, good-by, Governor. See you day after to-morrow at five precisely,"
said Mr. Crewe.
The next official call of Mr. Crewe was on the Speaker-to-be, Mr. Doby of
Hale (for such matters are cut and dried), but any amount of pounding on
Mr. Doby's door (number seventy-five) brought no response. Other rural
members besides Mr. Crewe came and pounded on that door, and went away
again; but Mr. Job Braden suddenly appeared from another part of the
corridor, smiling benignly, and apparently not resenting the refusal of
his previous offers of help.
"W--want the Speaker?" he inquired.
Mr. Crewe acknowledged that he did.
"Ed only sleeps there," said Mr. Braden. "Guess you'll find him in the
Railroad-Room."
"Railroad Room?"
"Hilary Vane's, Number Seven." Mr. Braden took hold of the lapel of his
fellow-townsman's coat. "Callated you didn't know it all," he said;
"that's the reason I come down--so's to help you some."
Mr. Crewe, although he was not wont to take a second place, followed Mr.
Braden down the stairs to the door next to the governor's, where he
pushed ahead of his guide, through the group about the doorway,--none of
whom, however, were attempting to enter. They stared in some surprise at
Mr. Crewe as he flung open the door without knocking, and slammed it
behind him in Mr. Braden's face. But the bewilderment caused by this act
of those without was as nothing to the astonishment of those within--had
Mr. Crewe but known it. An oil painting of the prominent men gathered
about the marble-topped table in the centre of the room, with an outline
key beneath it, would have been an appropriate work of art to hang in the
state-house, as emblematic of the statesmanship of the past twenty years.
The Honourable Hilary Vane sat at one end in a padded chair; Mr. Manning,
the division superintendent, startled out of a meditation, was upright on
the end of the bed; Mr. Ridout, the Northeastern's capital lawyer, was
figuring at the other end of the table; the Honourable Brush Bascom was
bending over a wide, sad-faced gentleman of some two hundred and fifty
pounds who sat at the centre in his shirt-sleeves, poring over numerous
sheets in front of him which were covered with names of the five hundred.
This gentleman was the Honourable Edward Doby of Hale, who, with the kind
assistance of the other gentlemen above-named, was in this secluded spot
making up a list of his committees, undisturbed by eager country members.
At Mr. Crewe's entrance Mr. Bascom, with great presence of mind, laid
down his hat over the principal list, while Mr. Ridout, taking the hint,
put the Revised Statutes on the other. There was a short silence; and the
Speaker-to-be, whose pencil had been knocked out of his hand; recovered
himself sufficiently to relight an extremely frayed cigar.
Not that Mr. Crewe was in the least abashed. He chose this opportunity to
make a survey of the situation, nodded to Mr. Ridout, and walked up to
the padded armchair.
"How are you, Mr. Vane?" he said. "I thought I'd drop in to shake hands
with you, especially as I have business with the Speaker, and heard he
was here. But I'm glad to have met you for many reasons. I want you to be
one of the vice-presidents of the State Economic League--it won't cost
you anything. Ridout has agreed to let his name go on."
The Honourable Hilary, not being an emotional man, merely grunted as he
started to rise to his feet. What he was about to say was interrupted by
a timid knock, and there followed another brief period of silence.
"It ain't anybody," said Mr. Bascom, and crossing the room, turned the
key in the lock. The timid knock was repeated.
"I suppose you're constantly interrupted here by unimportant people," Mr.
Crewe remarked.
"Well," said Mr. Vane, slowly, boring into Mr. Crewe with his eye, "that
statement isn't far out of the way."
"I don't believe you've ever met me, Mr. Vane. I'm Humphrey Crewe. We
have a good friend in common in Mr. Flint."
The Honourable Hilary's hand passed over Mr. Crewe's lightly.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Crewe," he said, and a faint twinkle appeared in
his eye. "Job has told everybody you were coming down. Glad to welcome a
man of your ahem--stamp into politics."
"I'm a plain business man," answered Mr. Crewe, modestly; "and although I
have considerable occupation, I believe that one in my position has
duties to perform. I've certain bills--"
"Yes, yes," agreed the Honourable Hilary; "do you know Mr. Brush Bascom
and Mr. Manning? Allow me to introduce you,--and General Doby."
"How are you, General?" said Mr. Crewe to the Speaker-to-be, "I'm always
glad to shake the hand of a veteran. Indeed, I have thought that a
society--"
"I earned my title," said General Doby, somewhat sheepishly, "fighting on
Governor Brown's staff. There were twenty of us, and we were resistless,
weren't we, Brush?"
"Twenty on a staff!" exclaimed Mr. Crewe.
"Oh, we furnished our own uniforms and paid our own way--except those of
us who had passes," declared the General, as though the memory of his
military career did not give him unalloyed pleasure. "What's the use of
State sovereignty if you can't have a glittering army to follow the
governor round?"
Mr. Crewe had never considered this question, and he was not the man to
waste time in speculation.
"Doubtless you got a letter from me, General Doby," he said. "We did what
we could up our way to put you in the Speaker's chair."
General Doby creased a little in the middle, to signify that he was
bowing.
"I trust it will be in my power to reciprocate, Mr. Crewe," he replied.
"We want to treat Mr. Crewe right," Mr. Bascom put in.
"You have probably made a note of my requests," Mr. Crewe continued. "I
should like to be on the Judiciary Committee, for one thing. Although I
am not a lawyer, I know something of the principles of law, and I
understand that this and the Appropriations Committee are the most
important. I may say with truth that I should be a useful member of that,
as I am accustomed to sitting on financial boards. As my bills are of
some considerable importance and deal with practical progressive
measures, I have no hesitation in asking for the chairmanship of Public
Improvements,--and of course a membership in the Agricultural is
essential, as I have bills for them. Gentlemen," he added to the room at
large, "I have typewritten manifolds of those bills which I shall be
happy to leave here--at headquarters." And suiting the action to the
word, he put down a packet on the table.
The Honourable Brush Bascom, accompanied by Mr. Ridout, walked to the
window and stood staring at the glitter of the electric light on the
snow. The Honourable Hilary gazed steadily at the table, while General
Doby blew his nose with painful violence.
"I'll do what I can for you, certainly, Mr. Crewe," he said. "But--what
is to become of the other four hundred and ninety-nine? The ways of a
Speaker are hard, Mr. Crewe, and I have to do justice to all."
"Well," answered Mr. Crewe, of course I don't want to be unreasonable,
and I realize the pressure that's put upon you. But when you consider the
importance of the work I came down here to do--"
"I do consider it," said the Speaker, politely. "It's a little early to
talk about the make-up of committees. I hope to be able to get at them by
Sunday. You may be sure I'll do my best for you."
"We'd better make a note of it," said Mr. Crewe; "give me some paper,"
and he was reaching around behind General Doby for one of the precious
sheets under Mr. Bascom's hat, when the general, with great presence of
mind, sat on it. We have it, from a malicious and untrustworthy source,
that the Northeastern Railroads paid for a new one.
"Here, here," cried the Speaker, "make the memorandum here."
At this critical juncture a fortunate diversion occurred. A rap--three
times--of no uncertain quality was heard at the door, and Mr. Brush
Bascom hastened to open it. A voice cried out:--"Is Manning here? The
boys are hollering for those passes," and a wiry, sallow gentleman burst
in, none other than the Honourable Elisha Jane, who was taking his
consular vacation. When his eyes fell upon Mr. Crewe he halted abruptly,
looked a little foolish, and gave a questioning glance at the Honourable
Hilary.
"Mountain passes, Lish? Sit down. Did I ever tell you that story about
the slide in Rickets Gulch?" asked the Honourable Brush Bascom. But
first let me make you acquainted with Mr. Humphrey Crewe of Leith. Mr.
Crewe has come down here with the finest lot of bills you ever saw, and
we're all going to take hold and put 'em through. Here, Lish, I'll give
you a set."
"Read 'em, Mr. Jane," urged Mr. Crewe. "I don't claim much for 'em, but
perhaps they will help to set a few little matters right--I hope so."
Mr. Jane opened the bills with deliberation, and cast his eyes over the
headings.
"I'll read 'em this very night, Mr. Crewe," he said solemnly; "this
meeting you is a particular pleasure, and I have heard in many quarters
of these measures."
"Well," admitted Mr. Crewe, "they may help some. I have a few other
matters to attend to this evening, so I must say good-night, gentlemen.
Don't let me interfere with those I mountain passes, Mr. Manning."
With this parting remark, which proved him to be not merely an idealist
in politics, but a practical man, Mr. Crewe took his leave. And he was
too much occupied with his own thoughts to pay any attention to the click
of the key as it turned in the lock, or to hear United States Senator
Whitredge rap (three times) on the door after he had turned the corner,
or to know that presently the sliding doors into the governor's bridal
suite--were to open a trifle, large enough for the admission of the body
of the Honourable Asa P. Gray.
Number Seven still keeps up its reputation as the seat of benevolence,
and great public benefactors still meet there to discuss the welfare of
their fellow-men: the hallowed council chamber now of an empire, seat of
the Governor-general of the State, the Honourable Hilary Vane, and his
advisers. For years a benighted people, with a fond belief in their
participation of Republican institutions, had elected the noble five
hundred of the House and the stanch twenty of the Senate. Noble five
hundreds (biggest Legislature in the world) have come and gone; debated,
applauded, fought and on occasions denounced, kicked over the traces, and
even wept--to no avail. Behold that political institution of man,
representative government There it is on the stage, curtain up, a sublime
spectacle for all men to see, and thrill over speeches about the Rights
of Man, and the Forefathers in the Revolution; about Constituents who do
not constitute. The High Heavens allow it and smile, and it is well for
the atoms that they think themselves free American representatives, that
they do not feel the string of predestination around their ankles. The
senatorial twenty, from their high carved seats, see the strings and
smile, too; yes, and see their own strings, and smile. Wisdom does not
wish for flight. "The people" having changed the constitution, the
blackbirds are reduced from four and forty to a score. This is
cheaper--for the people.
Democracy on the front of the stage before an applauding audience;
performers absorbed in their parts, forgetting that the landlord has to
be paid in money yet to be earned. Behind the stage, the real play, the
absorbing interest, the high stakes--occasional discreet laughter through
the peep-hole when an actor makes an impassioned appeal to the gods.
Democracy in front, the Feudal System, the Dukes and Earls behind--but in
plain clothes; Democracy in stars and spangles and trappings and
insignia. Or, a better figure, the Fates weaving the web in that mystic
chamber, Number Seven, pausing now and again to smile as a new thread is
put in. Proclamations, constitutions, and creeds crumble before
conditions; the Law of Dividends is the high law, and the Forum an open
vent through which the white steam may rise heavenward and be resolved
again into water.
Mr. Crewe took his seat in the popular assemblage next day, although most
of the five hundred gave up theirs to the ladies who had come to hear his
Excellency deliver his inaugural. The Honourable Asa made a splendid
figure, all agreed, and read his speech in a firm and manly voice. A
large part of it was about the people; some of it about the sacred
government they had inherited from their forefathers; still another
concerned the high character and achievements of the inhabitants within
the State lines; the name of Abraham Lincoln was mentioned, and, with
even greater reverence and fervour, the Republican party which had
ennobled and enriched the people--and incidentally elected the governor.
There was a noble financial policy, a curtailment of expense. The forests
should be protected, roads should be built, and, above all, corporations
should be held to a strict accounting.
Needless to say, the speech gave great satisfaction to all, and many old
friends left the hall exclaiming that they didn't believe Asa had it in
him. As a matter of fact (known only to the initiated), Asa didn't have
it in him until last night, before he squeezed through the crack in the
folding doors from room number six to room Number Seven. The inspiration
came to him then, when he was ennobled by the Governor-general, who
represents the Empire. Perpetual Governor-general, who quickens into life
puppet governors of his own choosing Asa has agreed, for the honour of
the title of governor of his State, to act the part, open the fairs, lend
his magnificent voice to those phrases which it rounds so well. It is
fortunate, when we smoke a fine cigar from Havana, that we cannot look
into the factory. The sight would disturb us. It was well for the
applauding, deep-breathing audience in the state-house that first of
January that they did not have a glimpse in room Number Seven the night
before, under the sheets that contained the list of the Speaker's
committees; it was well that they could not go back to Ripton into the
offices on the square, earlier in December, where Mr. Hamilton Tooting
was writing the noble part of that inaugural from memoranda given him by
the Honourable Hilary Vane. Yes, the versatile Mr. Tooting, and none
other, doomed forever to hide the light of his genius under a bushel! The
financial part was written by the Governor-general himself--the
Honourable Hilary Vane. And when it was all finished and revised, it was
put into a long envelope which bore this printed address: Augustus P.
Flint, Pres't United Northeastern Railroads, New York. And came back with
certain annotations on the margin, which were duly incorporated into it.
This is the private history (which must never be told) of the document
which on January first became, as far as fame and posterity is concerned,
the Honourable Asa P. Gray's--forever and forever.
Mr. Crewe liked the inaugural, and was one of the first to tell Mr. Gray
so, and to express his pleasure and appreciation of the fact that his
request (mailed in November) had been complied with, that the substance
of his bills had been recommended in the governor's programme.
He did not pause to reflect on the maxim, that platforms are made to get
in by and inaugurals to get started by.
Although annual efforts have been made by various public-spirited
citizens to build a new state-house, economy--with assistance from room
Number Seven has triumphed. It is the same state-house from the gallery
of which poor William Wetherell witnessed the drama of the Woodchuck
Session, although there are more members now, for the population of the
State has increased to five hundred thousand. It is well for General
Doby, with his two hundred and fifty pounds, that he is in the Speaker's
chair; five hundred seats are a good many for that hall, and painful in a
long session. The Honourable Brush Bascom can stretch his legs, because
he is fortunate enough to have a front seat. Upon inquiry, it turns out
that Mr. Bascom has had a front seat for the last twenty years--he has
been uniformly lucky in drawing. The Honourable Jacob Botcher (ten years'
service) is equally fortunate; the Honourable Jake is a man of large
presence, and a voice that sounds as if it came, oracularly, from the
caverns of the earth. He is easily heard by the members on the back
seats, while Mr. Bascom is not. Mr. Ridout, the capital lawyer, is in the
House this year, and singularly enough has a front seat likewise. It was
Mr. Crewe's misfortune to draw number 415, in the extreme corner of the
room, and next the steam radiator. But he was not of the metal to accept
tamely such a ticketing from the hat of destiny (via the Clerk of the
House). He complained, as any man of spirit would, and Mr. Utter, the
polite clerk, is profoundly sorry,--and says it maybe managed. Curiously
enough, the Honourable Brush Bascom and the Honourable Jacob Botcher join
Mr. Crewe in his complaint, and reiterate that it is an outrage that a
man of such ability and deserving prominence should be among the
submerged four hundred and seventy. It is managed in a mysterious manner
we don't pretend to fathom, and behold Mr. Crewe in the front of the
Forum, in the seats of the mighty, where he can easily be pointed out
from the gallery at the head of the five hundred, between those shining
leaders and parliamentarians, the Honourables Brush Bascom and Jake
Botcher.
For Mr. Crewe has not come to the Legislature, like the country members
in the rear, to acquire a smattering of parliamentary procedure by the
day the Speaker is presented with a gold watch, at the end of the
session. Not he! Not the practical business man, the member of boards,
the chairman and president of societies. He has studied the Rules of the
House and parliamentary law, you may be sure. Genius does not come
unprepared, and is rarely caught napping. After the Legislature
adjourned that week the following telegram was sent over the wires:--
Augustus P. Flint, New York.
Kindly use your influence with Doby to secure my committee
appointments. Important as per my conversation with you.
Humphrey Crewe.
Nor was Mr. Crewe idle from Saturday to Monday night, when the committees
were to be announced. He sent to the State Tribune office for fifty
copies of that valuable paper, which contained a two-column-and-a-half
article on Mr. Crewe as a legislator and financier and citizen, with a
summary of his bills and an argument as to how the State would benefit by
their adoption; an accurate list of Mr. Crewe's societies was inserted,
and an account of his life's history, and of those ancestors of his who
had been born or lived within the State. Indeed, the accuracy of this
article as a whole did great credit to the editor of the State Tribune,
who must have spent a tremendous amount of painstaking research upon it;
and the article was so good that Mr. Crewe regretted (undoubtedly for the
editor's sake) that a request could not be appended to it such as is used
upon marriage and funeral notices: "New York, Boston, and Philadelphia
papers please copy."
Mr. Crewe thought it his duty to remedy as much as possible the
unfortunate limited circulation of the article, and he spent as much as a
whole day making out a list of friends and acquaintances whom he thought
worthy to receive a copy of the Tribune--marked personal. Victoria Flint
got one, and read it to her father at the breakfast table. (Mr. Flint did
not open his.) Austen Vane wondered why any man in his obscure and
helpless position should have been honoured, but honoured he was. He sent
his to Victoria, too, and was surprised to find that she knew his
handwriting and wrote him a letter to thank him for it: a letter which
provoked on his part much laughter, and elements of other sensations
which, according to Charles Reade, should form the ingredients of a good
novel. But of this matter later.
Mrs. Pomfret and Alice each got one, and each wrote Mr. Crewe appropriate
congratulations. (Alice's answer supervised.) Mrs. Chillingham got one;
the Honourable Hilary Vane got one--marked in red ink, lest he should
have skipped it in his daily perusal of the paper. Mr. Brush, Bascom got
one likewise. But the list of Mr. Crewe's acquaintances is too long and
too broad to dwell upon further in these pages.
The Monday-night session came at last, that sensational hour when the
Speaker makes those decisions to which he is supposed to have given birth
over Sunday in the seclusion of his country home at Hale. Monday-night
sessions are, as a rule, confined in attendance to the Honourable Brush
Bascom and Mr. Ridout and a few other conscientious members who do not
believe in cheating the State, but to-night all is bustle and confusion,
and at least four hundred members are pushing down the aisles and
squeezing past each other into the narrow seats, and reading the State
Tribune or the ringing words of the governor's inaugural which they find
in the racks on the back of the seats before them. Speaker Doby, who has
been apparently deep in conference with the most important members (among
them Mr. Crewe, to whom he has whispered that a violent snow-storm is
raging in Hale), raps for order; and after a few preliminaries hands to
Mr. Utter, the clerk, amidst a breathless silence, the paper on which the
parliamentary career of so many ambitious statesmen depends.
It is not a pleasure to record the perfidy of man, nor the lack of
judgment which prevents him, in his circumscribed lights, from
recognizing undoubted geniuses when he sees them. Perhaps it was jealousy
on General Doby's part, and a selfish desire to occupy the centre of the
stage himself, but at any rate we will pass hastily over the disagreeable
portions of this narrative. Mr. Crewe settled himself with his feet
extended, and with a complacency which he had rightly earned by leaving
no stone unturned, to listen. He sat up a little when the Appropriations
Committee, headed by the Honourable Jake Botcher, did not contain his
name--but it might have been an oversight of Mr. Utters; when the
Judiciary (Mr. Ridout's committee) was read it began to look like malice;
committee after committee was revealed, and the name of Humphrey Crewe
might not have been contained in the five hundred except as the twelfth
member of forestry, until it appeared at the top of National Affairs.
Here was a broad enough field, certainly,--the Trusts, the Tariff, the
Gold Standard, the Foreign Possessions,--and Mr. Crewe's mind began to
soar in spite of himself. Public Improvements was reached, and he
straightened. Mr. Beck, a railroad lawyer from Belfast, led it. Mr. Crewe
arose, as any man of spirit would, and walked with dignity up the aisle
and out of the house. This deliberate attempt to crush genius would
inevitably react on itself. The Honourable Hilary Vane and Mr. Flint
should be informed of it at once.