THE MAYOR AND THE ALDERMAN.
A smooth and subtle man was he--
Of crafty heart and Christian mien;
His wisdom--cheating sophistry,
Flung o'er his sins a mocking sheen.
Chester had business with the Chief of Police, and about nine o'clock
the next morning, after his adventure with the orphan, he passed into
the Park, through the south entrance, on his way to the Chief's
office. At the same moment, his Honor the Mayor came through a gate
near the corner of Chambers street, and walked with calm and stately
deliberation toward the City Hall. Nothing could have been more
precise or perfect than the outward man, which his honor exhibited
to the gaze of his constituents. Neatly-fitting boots, square toed,
and of the most elaborate manufacture, encased his feet. Not a speck
defiled their high polish; the very dust and mud which introduces
itself cosily into the habiliments of your common, warm hearted men,
seemed to shrink away chilled and repulsed by the immaculate coldness
that clung like an atmosphere around the Mayor of New York. The nap
of his hat lay shining and smooth as satin; so deeply and thoroughly
was it brushed down into the stock, that it seemed as if a whirlwind
would have failed to ripple the fur. His black coat, his satin vest
and plaited linen presented a glossy and spotless surface to the
winter sun. His black gloves--in New York we have a great many public
funerals, and the city supplies mourning gloves to the Common
Council--his black gloves were neatly buttoned, and above them lay
his snow-white wristbands, folded carefully over the cuffs of his
coat, and his right hand grasped a prudish-looking cane which seemed
part and parcel of the man.
A sublime picture of official dignity was the Mayor as he crossed
the Park that morning. An expression of bland courtesy lay upon his
features; all the proprieties of life were elaborated in his slightest
movement. Nothing, save heart and principle, was lacking that could
ensure popularity; but this deficiency, if it does not render a man
absolutely unpopular, chills all enthusiasm regarding him.
A man must possess fire in himself before he can kindle up the
electricity that thrills the great popular heart. With all his
propriety--with all his silky and subtle efforts, our Mayor was
generally regarded with indifference. He was neither loved nor hated
sufficiently for the populace to know or care much about him. Oily
Gammon himself could not have presented a more perfect surface to
the people. Still this man could hate like an Indian and sting like
a viper. You would not have doubted that, had you seen him when he
first encountered Chester in the Park. There was a glitter in his
eye which you could not have, mistaken. During the moment when he
saw Chester turning an angle of the City Hall, this flash came and
went, leaving his face unmoved as before, only that he almost smiled
as the policeman drew near.
"And how is your little charge this morning?" inquired his honor,
pausing in the walk where it curves to the back entrance of the City
Hall. "Better, I hope?"
"Oh, yes, sir, much better," answered Chester with generous warmth.
"I thank your honor for inquiring."
"I suppose you are going to the Alms House Commissioner," rejoined
the Mayor, glancing toward the old building which ran along Chambers
street, where many of the public offices were held; "she will be well
cared for at Bellevue."
Chester blushed as if he were confessing some fraud, and answered
with embarrassment that the little girl would remain with him, at
least for the present.
The Mayor looked perfectly satisfied with the answer, bowed and walked
forward. On his way up the steps and along the lobby, he occasionally
saluted some lawyer that plunged by him with a load of calf-bound
volumes pressed ostentatiously under his arm, and paused once or twice
to exchange words with a street inspector or petty official, who
formed the small wires of his political machinery.
The Mayor spent half an hour in his private office, closeted with
his chief clerk, who had been busy over night preparing a speech which
his honor was to deliver before some distinguished city guest the
next day. In these matters the chief magistrate proved rather hard
to please, as he was fond of high-sounding words and poetical ideas,
but found them very difficult to commit to memory.
In this case the clerk had done wonders, and taking a copy for study,
his honor disposed himself in the great easy-chair of his private
room, with the manuscript before him, as if profoundly occupied with
some intricate law opinion, and commenced the arduous task of
committing the ideas of a better cultivated mind to his own sterile
brain. While he was thus occupied, a man entered with a good-humored,
blustering air, and threw himself into a seat by the fire, carelessly
shaking the Mayor's hand as he passed, as if quite certain of a good
reception at all times.
"Busy making out a new veto case, I dare say?" observed the visitor,
glancing at the sheet of manuscript which his honor held.
The Mayor folded up his unlearned speech, and turning quietly in his
seat, dropped into a desultory conversation with this man about city
matters, talking in a circle, and gradually drawing toward the subject
which he had at heart, till it seemed to drop in quite by accident.
"Speaking of policemen," said the Mayor, "there is a man in our ward,
Alderman, whom I have heard of very often, lately, a tall, gentlemanly
sort of a fellow--Chester, I think that is his name. Do you happen
to know anything about him?"
"Chester--Chester--yes, I should think so. A fellow that reads like
a minister and writes like a clerk; he is a perfect nuisance in the
ward. You have no idea what mischief he does with his gentlemanly
airs."
"What! a strong politician is he?"
"I hardly know; but he is not one of us, that is certain."
"It is due to the party--the fellow ought to be removed," said the
Mayor. "I wonder some one has never preferred charges against him."
"Plenty of our people have been lying in wait for him, but he is not
to be trapped; he understands all the rules, and lives up to them.
Never drinks--is always respectful--appears on his beat punctual as
a clock. In short, it is a hopeless case."
"Then it must be a very singular one," said the Mayor, with a meaning
smile. "Is there no good friend of your own who would be glad of the
situation?"
"Oh, yes--one to whom I have made a half promise, but we can get no
hold on this Chester, he will baffle us, depend on it."
"Perhaps not. Let your friend, who is waiting for the situation,
continue vigilant. If he is keen-sighted, his evidence will have
weight with me."
Our Alderman looked hard at the Mayor, somewhat doubtful if he
understood the whole meaning conveyed, more in the glance than in
the words of that honorable gentleman, who saw his perplexity and
spoke again.
"You know, my dear friend, how far I would strain a point to serve
you, but there must be some evidence--something, however slight, you
understand--which can be readily obtained against any man."
The Mayor saw by the smile that disturbed the lip of his friend, that
he was at length thoroughly understood.
"You know that there is no appeal from my decision," he added, with
a smile, "and I decide alone!"
"I comprehend," replied the Alderman, standing up and rubbing his
palms pleasantly together. "This is very kind of you, very kind,
indeed. I shall not forget it."
"I think your friend may be sure of his situation," was the amiable
reply; "you know it is our duty to watch these people well. I think
your friend may deem himself secure."
"No doubt of it, now that we have a friend at court."
"Oh, not a word of that," said the Mayor, lifting his hand
reprovingly, "everything must be in order, according to rule, you
know."
The Mayor smiled, while his friend laughed outright, repeating to
himself between each chuckle--"Oh, yes, according to rule, according
to rule;" and eager to undertake his new enterprise, the elated
Alderman took his leave, walking through the outer room with an
exaggeration of his previous blustering importance, that quite
astonished the clerks.
The Mayor looked after him with a bland smile, but when the worthy
official was out of sight, the smile glided into a contemptuous sneer,
and he muttered to himself--"The pompous blockhead, he is so easily
cajoled that one scarcely feels a pleasure in using him."
With these characteristic words the noble-hearted magistrate betook
himself to the manuscript again, certain that the wire he had pulled,
would never cease to vibrate till poor Chester was ruined.