"FOR BILLS MAY COME, AND BILLS MAY GO"
A man with a sense of humour once went to the capital as a member of the
five hundred from his town, and he never went back again. One reason for
this was that he died the following year, literally, the doctors said,
from laughing too much. I know that this statement will be received
incredulously, and disputed by those who claim that laughter is a good
thing; the honourable gentleman died from too much of a good thing. He
was overpowered by having too much to laugh at, and the undiscerning
thought him a fool, and the Empire had no need of a court jester. But
many of his sayings have lived, nevertheless. He wrote a poem, said to be
a plagiarism, which contains the quotation at the beginning of this
chapter: "For bills may come, and bills may go, but I go on forever." The
first person singular is supposed to relate to the United Northeastern
Railroads. It was a poor joke at best.
It is needless to say that the gentleman referred to had a back seat
among the submerged four hundred and seventy,--and that he kept it. No
discerning and powerful well-wishers came forward and said to him,
"Friend, go up higher." He sat, doubled up, in number, and the gods gave
him compensation in laughter; he disturbed the Solons around him, who
were interested in what was going on in front, and trying to do their
duty to their constituents by learning parliamentary procedure before the
Speaker got his gold watch and shed tears over it.
The gentleman who laughed and died is forgotten, as he deserves to be,
and it never occurred to anybody that he might have been a philosopher,
after all. There is something irresistibly funny about predestination;
about men who are striving and learning and soberly voting upon measures
with which they have as little to do as guinea-pigs. There were certain
wise and cynical atheists who did not attend the sessions at all except
when they received mysterious hints to do so. These were chiefly from
Newcastle. And there were others who played poker in the state-house
cellar waiting for the Word to come to them, when they went up and voted
(prudently counting their chips before they did so), and descended again.
The man with a sense of humour laughed at these, too, and at the twenty
blackbirds in the Senate,--but not so heartily. He laughed at their
gravity, for no gravity can equal that of gentlemen who play with stacked
cards.
The risible gentleman laughed at the proposed legislation, about which he
made the song, and he likened it to a stream that rises hopefully in the
mountains, and takes its way singing at the prospect of reaching the
ocean, but presently flows into a hole in the ground to fill the
forgotten caverns of the earth, and is lost to the knowledge and sight of
man. The caverns he labelled respectively Appropriations, Railroad,
Judiciary, and their guardians were unmistakably the Honourables Messrs.
Bascom, Botcher, and Ridout. The greatest cavern of all he called "The
Senate."
If you listen, you can hear the music of the stream of bills as it is
rising hopefully and flowing now: "Mr. Crewe of Leith gives notice that
on to-morrow or some subsequent day he will introduce a bill entitled,
'An act for the Improvement of the State Highways.' Mr. Crewe of Leith
gives notice, etc. 'An act for the Improvement of the Practice of
Agriculture.' 'An act relating to the State Indebtedness.' 'An act to
increase the State Forest Area.' 'An act to incorporate the State
Economic League.' 'An act to incorporate the State Children's Charities
Association.' 'An act in relation to Abandoned Farms.'" These were some
of the most important, and they were duly introduced on the morrow, and
gravely referred by the Speaker to various committees. As might be
expected, a man whose watchword is, "thorough" immediately got a list of
those committees, and lost no time in hunting up the chairmen and the
various available members thereof.
As a man of spirit, also, Mr. Crewe wrote to Mr. Flint, protesting as to
the manner in which he had been treated concerning committees. In the
course of a week he received a kind but necessarily brief letter from the
Northeastern's president to remind him that he persisted in a fallacy; as
a neighbour, Mr. Flint would help him to the extent of his power, but the
Northeastern Railroads could not interfere in legislative or political
matters. Mr. Crewe was naturally pained by the lack of confidence of his
friend; it seems useless to reiterate that he was far from being a fool,
and no man could be in the capital a day during the session without being
told of the existence of Number Seven, no matter how little the informant
might know of what might be going on there. Mr. Crewe had been fortunate
enough to see the inside of that mysterious room, and, being a
sufficiently clever man to realize the importance and necessity of
government by corporations, had been shocked at nothing he had seen or
heard. However, had he had a glimpse of the Speaker's lists under the
hopelessly crushed hat of Mr. Bascom, perhaps he might have been shocked,
after all.
It was about this time that a touching friendship began which ought, in
justice, to be briefly chronicled. It was impossible for the Honourable
Brush Bascom and the Honourable Jacob Botcher to have Mr. Crewe sitting
between them and not conceive a strong affection for him. The Honourable
Brush, though not given to expressing his feelings, betrayed some
surprise at the volumes Mr. Crewe had contributed to the stream of bills;
and Mr. Botcher, in a Delphic whisper, invited Mr. Crewe to visit him in
room forty-eight of the Pelican that evening. To tell the truth, Mr.
Crewe returned the feeling of his companions warmly, and he had even
entertained the idea of asking them both to dine with him that evening.
Number forty-eight (the Honourable Jake's) was a free-and-easy democratic
resort. No three knocks and a password before you turn the key here.
Almost before your knuckles hit the panel you heard Mr. Botcher's hearty
voice shouting "Come in," in spite of the closed transom. The Honourable
Jake, being a tee-totaller, had no bathroom, and none but his intimate
friends ever looked in the third from the top bureau drawer.
The proprietor of the Pelican, who in common with the rest of humanity
had fallen a victim to the rough and honest charms and hearty good
fellowship of the Honourable Jake, always placed a large padded arm-chair
in number forty-eight before the sessions, knowing that the Honourable
Jake's constituency would be uniformly kind to him. There Mr. Botcher was
wont to sit (when he was not depressing one of the tiles in the rotunda),
surrounded by his friends and their tobacco smoke, discussing in his
frank and manly fashion the public questions of the day.
Mr. Crewe thought it a little strange that, whenever he entered a room in
the Pelican, a silence should succeed the buzz of talk which he had heard
through the closed transom; but he very naturally attributed this to the
constraint which ordinary men would be likely to feel in his presence. In
the mouth of one presumptuous member the word "railroad" was cut in two
by an agate glance from the Honourable Brush, and Mr. Crewe noted with
some surprise that the Democratic leader of the House, Mr. Painter, was
seated on Mr. Botcher's mattress, with an expression that was in singular
contrast to the look of bold defiance which he had swept over the House
that afternoon in announcing his opposition policy. The vulgar political
suggestion might have crept into a more trivial mind than Mr. Crewe's
that Mr. Painter was being, "put to bed," the bed being very similar to
that of Procrustes. Mr. Botcher extracted himself from the nooks and
crannies of his armchair.
"How are you, Crewe?" he said hospitably; "we're all friends here--eh,
Painter? We don't carry our quarrels outside the swinging doors. You know
Mr. Crewe--by sight, of course. Do you know these other gentlemen, Crewe?
I didn't expect you so early."
The "other gentlemen" said that they were happy to make the acquaintance
of their fellow-member from Leith, and seemingly with one consent began
to edge towards the door.
"Don't go, boys," Mr. Bascom protested. "Let me finish that story."
Some of "the boys" seemed to regard this statement as humorous,--more
humorous, indeed, than the story itself. And when it was finished they
took their departure, a trifle awkwardly, led by Mr. Painter.
"They're a little mite bashful," said Mr. Botcher, apologetically.
"How many more of those bills have you got?" demanded Mr. Bascom, from
the steam radiator, with characteristic directness.
"I put 'em all in this morning," said Mr. Crewe, "but I have thought
since of two or three other conditions which might be benefited by
legislation."
"Well," said Mr. Bascom, kindly, "if you have any more I was going to
suggest that you distribute 'em round among the boys. That's the way I
do, and most folks don't guess they're your bills. See?"
"What harm is there in that?" demanded Mr. Crewe. "I'm not ashamed of
'em."
"Brush was only lookin' at it from the point of view of gettin' 'em
through," honest Mr. Botcher put in, in stentorian tones. "It doesn't do
for a new member to be thought a hog about legislation."
Now the Honourable Jacob only meant this in the kindest manner, as we
know, and to give inexperience a hint from well-intentioned experience.
On the other hand, Mr. Crewe had a dignity and a position to uphold. He
was a personality. People who went too far with him were apt to be
rebuked by a certain glassy quality in his eye, and this now caused the
Honourable Jake to draw back perceptibly.
"I see no reason why a public-spirited man should be open to such an
imputation," said Mr. Crewe.
"Certainly not, certainly not," said Mr. Botcher, in stentorian tones of
apology, "I was only trying to give you a little friendly advice, but I
may have put it too strong. Brush and I--I may as well be plain about it,
Mr. Crewe--have taken a liking to you. Couldn't help it, sir, sitting
next to you as we do. We take an interest in your career, and we don't
want you to make any mistakes. Ain't that about it, Brush?"
"That's about it," said Mr. Bascom.
Mr. Crewe was to big a man not to perceive and appreciate the sterling
philanthropy which lay beneath the exteriors of his new friends, who
scorned to flatter him.
"I understand the spirit in which your advice is given, gentlemen," he
replied magnanimously, "and I appreciate it. We are all working for the
same things, and we all believe that they must be brought about in the
same practical way. For instance, we know as practical men that the
railroad pays a large tax in this State, and that property must take a
hand--a very considerable hand--in legislation. You gentlemen, as
important factors in the Republican organization, are loyal to--er--that
property, and perhaps for wholly desirable reasons cannot bring forward
too many bills under your own names. Whereas I--"
At this point in Mr. Crewe's remarks the Honourable Jacob Botcher was
seized by an appalling coughing fit which threatened to break his
arm-chair, probably owing to the fact that he had swallowed something
which he had in his mouth the wrong way. Mr. Bascom, assisted by Mr.
Crewe, pounded him relentlessly on the back.
"I read that article in the 'Tribune' about you with great interest,"
said Mr. Bascom, when Mr. Botcher's coughing had subsided. "I had no idea
you were so--ahem--well equipped for a political career. But what we
wanted to speak to you about was this," he continued, as Mr. Crewe showed
signs of breaking in, "those committee appointments you desired."
"Yes," said Mr. Crewe, with some pardonable heat, "the Speaker doesn't
seem to know which side his bread's buttered on."
"What I was going to say," proceeded Mr. Bascom, "was that General Doby
is a pretty good fellow. Personally, I happen to know that the general
feels very badly that he couldn't give you what you wanted. He took a
shine to you that night you saw him."
"Yes," Mr. Botcher agreed, for he had quite recovered, the general felt
bad--feels bad, I should say. He perceived that you were a man of
ability, sir--"
"And that was just the reason," said the Honourable Brush, "that he
couldn't make you more useful just now."
"There's a good deal of jealousy, my dear sir, against young members of
ability," said Mr. Botcher, in his most oracular and impressive tones.
"The competition amongst those--er--who have served the party is very
keen for the positions you desired. I personally happen to know that the
general had you on the Judiciary and Appropriations, and that some of
your--er--well-wishers persuaded him to take you off for your own good."
"It wouldn't do for the party leaders to make you too prominent all at
once," said Mr. Bascom. "You are bound to take an active part in what
passes here. The general said, 'At all events I will give Mr. Crewe one
chairmanship by which he can make a name for himself suited to his
talents,' and he insisted on giving you, in spite of some remonstrances
from your friends, National Affairs. The general urged, rightly, that
with your broad view and knowledge of national policy, it was his duty to
put you in that place whatever people might say."
Mr. Crewe listened to these explanations in some surprise; and being a
rational man, had to confess that they were--more or less reasonable.
"Scarcely any bills come before that committee," he objected.
"Ah," replied Mr. Bascom, "that is true. But the chairman of that
committee is generally supposed to be in line for--er--national honours.
It has not always happened in the past, because the men have not proved
worthy. But the opportunity is always given to that chairman to make a
speech upon national affairs which is listened to with the deepest
interest.
"Is that so?" said Mr. Crewe. He wanted to be of service, as we know. He
was a man of ideas, and the opening sentences of the speech were already
occurring to him.
"Let's go upstairs and see the general now," suggested Mr. Botcher,
smiling that such a happy thought should have occurred to him.
"Why, I guess we couldn't do any better," Mr. Bascom agreed.
"Well," said Mr. Crewe, "I'm willing to hear what he's got to say,
anyway."
Taking advantage of this generous concession, Mr. Botcher hastily locked
the door, and led the way up the stairway to number seventy-five. After a
knock or two here, the door opened a crack, disclosing, instead of
General Doby's cherubic countenance, a sallow face with an exceedingly
pointed nose. The owner of these features, having only Mr. Botcher in his
line of vision, made what was perhaps an unguarded remark.
"Hello, Jake, the general's in number nine--Manning sent for him about
half an hour ago."
It was Mr. Botcher himself who almost closed the door on the gentleman's
sharp nose, and took Mr. Crewe's arm confidingly.
"We'll go up to the desk and see Doby in the morning,--he's busy," said
the Honourable Jake.
"What's the matter with seeing him now?" Mr. Crewe demanded. "I know
Manning. He's the division superintendent, isn't he?"
Mr. Botcher and Mr. Bascom exchanged glances.
"Why, yes--" said Mr. Bascom, "yes, he is. He's a great friend of General
Doby's, and their wives are great friends."
"Intimate friends, sir," said the Honourable Jake
"Well," said Mr. Crewe, "we won't bother 'em but a moment."
It was he who led the way now, briskly, the Honourable Brush and the
Honourable Jake pressing closely after him. It was Mr. Crewe who, without
pausing to knock, pushed open the door of number nine, which was not
quite closed; and it was Mr. Crewe who made the important discovery that
the lugubrious division superintendent had a sense of humour. Mr. Manning
was seated at a marble-topped table writing on a salmon-coloured card, in
the act of pronouncing these words:--"For Mr. Speaker and Mrs. Speaker
and all the little Speakers, to New York and return."
Mr. Speaker Doby, standing before the marble-topped table with his hands
in his pockets, heard the noise behind him and turned, and a mournful
expression spread over his countenance.
"Don't mind me," said Mr. Crewe, waving a hand in the direction of the
salmon-coloured tickets; "I hope you have a good time, General. When do
you go?"
"Why," exclaimed the Speaker, "how are you, Mr. Crewe, how are you? It's
only one of Manning's little jokes."
"That's all right, General," said Mr. Crewe, "I haven't been a director
in railroads for nothing. I'm not as green as he thinks. Am I, Mr.
Manning?"
"It never struck me that green was your colour, Mr. Crewe," answered the
division superintendent, smiling a little as he tore the tickets into
bits and put them in the waste-basket.
"Well," said Mr. Crewe, "you needn't have torn 'em up on my account. I
travel on the pass which the Northeastern gives me as a legislator, and
I'm thinking seriously of getting Mr. Flint to send me an annual, now
that I'm in politics and have to cover the State."
"We thought you were a reformer, Mr. Crewe," the Honourable Brush Bascom
remarked.
"I am a practical man," said Mr. Crewe; "a railroad man, a business mark
and as such I try to see things as they are."
"Well," said General Doby, who by this time had regained his usual genial
air of composure, I'm glad you said that, Mr. Crewe. As these gentlemen
will tell you, if I'd had my wish I'd have had you on every important
committee in the House."
"Chairman of every important committee, General," corrected the
Honourable Jacob Botcher.
"Yes, chairman of 'em," assented the general, after a glance at Mr.
Crewe's countenance to see how this statement fared. "But the fact is,
the boys are all jealous of you--on the quiet. I suppose you suspected
something of the kind."
"I should have imagined there might be some little feeling," Mr. Crewe
assented modestly.
"Exactly," cried the general, "and I had to combat that feeling when I
insisted upon putting you at the head of National Affairs. It does not do
for a new member, whatever his prominence in the financial world, to be
pushed forward too quickly. And unless I am mighty mistaken, Mr. Crewe,"
he added, with his hand on the new member's shoulder, "you will make
yourself felt without any boosting from me."
"I did not come here to remain idle, General," answered Mr. Crewe,
considerably mollified.
"Certainly not," said the general, "and I say to some of those men, 'Keep
your eye on the gentleman who is Chairman of National Affairs.'"
After a little more of this desultory and pleasant talk, during which
recourse was, had to the bathroom for several tall and thin glasses
ranged on the shelf there, Mr. Crewe took his departure in a most equable
frame of mind. And when the door was closed and locked behind him, Mr.
Manning dipped his pen in the ink, once more produced from a drawer in
the table the salmon-coloured tickets, and glanced again at the general
with a smile.
"For Mr. Speaker and Mrs. Speaker and all the little Speakers, to New
York and return."
End of Project Gutenberg's Mr. Crewe's Career, Book I., by Winston Churchill