"Oh, that's talk," I said.
"All right, it's talk, then? But I guess you and I will have some more
talk after a while,--after Theodore Watling gets to be United States
Senator. Give him my regards, and--and come in when I can do anything for
you, Mr. Paret."
Thanking him, I groped my way downstairs and let myself out by a side
door Monahan had shown me into an alleyway, thus avoiding the saloon. As
I walked slowly back to the office, seeking the shade of the awnings, the
figure in the darkened room took on a sinister aspect that troubled
me....
The autumn arrived, the campaign was on with a whoop, and I had my first
taste of "stump" politics. The acrid smell of red fire brings it back to
me. It was a medley of railroad travel, of committees provided with
badges--and cigars, of open carriages slowly drawn between lines of
bewildered citizens, of Lincoln clubs and other clubs marching in serried
ranks, uniformed and helmeted, stalwarts carrying torches and banners.
And then there were the draughty opera-houses with the sylvan scenery
pushed back and plush chairs and sofas pushed forward; with an ominous
table, a pitcher of water on it and a glass, near the footlights. The
houses were packed with more bewildered citizens. What a wonderful study
of mob-psychology it would have offered! Men who had not thought of the
grand old Republican party for two years, and who had not cared much
about it when they had entered the dooms, after an hour or so went mad
with fervour. The Hon. Joseph Mecklin, ex-Speaker of the House, with whom
I traveled on occasions, had a speech referring to the martyred
President, ending with an appeal to the revolutionary fathers who
followed Washington with bleeding feet. The Hon. Joseph possessed that
most valuable of political gifts, presence; and when with quivering voice
he finished his peroration, citizens wept with him. What it all had to do
with the tariff was not quite clear. Yet nobody seemed to miss the
connection.
We were all of us most concerned, of course, about the working-man and
his dinner pail,--whom the Democrats had wantonly thrown out of
employment for the sake of a doctrinaire theory. They had put him in
competition with the serf of Europe. Such was the subject-matter of my
own modest addresses in this, my maiden campaign. I had the sense to see
myself in perspective; to recognize that not for me, a dignified and
substantial lawyer of affairs, were the rhetorical flights of the Hon.
Joseph Mecklin. I spoke with a certain restraint. Not too dryly, I hope.
But I sought to curb my sentiments, my indignation, at the manner in
which the working-man had been treated; to appeal to the common sense
rather than to the passions of my audiences. Here were the statistics!
(drawn, by the way, from the Republican Campaign book). Unscrupulous
demagogues--Democratic, of course--had sought to twist and evade them.
Let this terrible record of lack of employment and misery be compared
with the prosperity under Republican rule.
"One of the most effective speakers in this campaign for the restoration
of Prosperity," said the Rossiter Banner, "is Mr. Hugh Paret, of the firm
of Watling, Fowndes and Ripon. Mr. Paret's speech at the Opera-House last
evening made a most favourable impression. Mr. Paret deals with facts.
And his thoughtful analysis of the situation into which the Democratic
party has brought this country should convince any sane-minded voter that
the time has come for a change."
I began to keep a scrap-book, though I locked it up in the drawer of my
desk. In it are to be found many clippings of a similarly gratifying
tenor....
Mecklin and I were well contrasted. In this way, incidentally, I made
many valuable acquaintances among the "solid" men of the state, the local
capitalists and manufacturers, with whom my manner of dealing with public
questions was in particular favour. These were practical men; they rather
patronized the Hon. Joseph, thus estimating, to a nicety, a mans value;
or solidity, or specific gravity, it might better be said, since our
universe was one of checks and balances. The Hon. Joseph and his like,
skyrocketing through the air, were somehow necessary in the scheme of
things, but not to be taken too seriously. Me they did take seriously,
these provincial lords, inviting me to their houses and opening their
hearts. Thus, when we came to Elkington, Mr. Mecklin reposed in the
Commercial House, on the noisy main street. Fortunately for him, the
clanging of trolley cars never interfered with his slumbers. I slept in a
wide chamber in the mansion of Mr. Ezra Hutchins. There were many
Hutchinses in Elkington,--brothers and cousins and uncles and
great-uncles,--and all were connected with the woollen mills. But there
is always one supreme Hutchins, and Ezra was he: tall, self-contained,
elderly, but well preserved through frugal living, essentially American
and typical of his class, when he entered the lobby of the Commercial
House that afternoon the babel of political discussion was suddenly
hushed; politicians, traveling salesmen and the members of the local
committee made a lane for him; to him, the Hon. Joseph and I were
introduced. Mr. Hutchins knew what he wanted. He was cordial to Mr.
Mecklin, but he took me. We entered a most respectable surrey with
tassels, driven by a raw-boned coachman in a black overcoat, drawn by two
sleek horses.
"How is this thing going, Paret?" he asked.