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diff --git a/old/67648-h/67648-h.htm b/old/67648-h/67648-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index e0ba74b..0000000 --- a/old/67648-h/67648-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13958 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - Forty Years of It, by Brand Whitlock—A Project Gutenberg eBook - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} -div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em;} -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } - - -div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} -h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} - - -.pagenum { - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - font-style: normal; - font-weight: normal; - font-variant: normal; -} - - -.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} -.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} - -.bbox {border: 2px solid; padding: 2em;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - -.large {font-size: 125%;} - -.indentleft {margin-left: 2em;} - -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; - page-break-inside: avoid; - max-width: 100%; -} - -.footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} - -.footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} - -.fnanchor { - vertical-align: super; - font-size: .8em; - text-decoration: - none; -} - -.poetry-container {text-align: center;} -.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} -.poetry .verse {text-indent: -2.5em; padding-left: 3em;} - -.poetry .indent {text-indent: 2.5em;} -.poetry .indent4 {text-indent: 3.5em;} -@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } -.x-ebookmaker .poetry {display: block;} - -.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; - color: black; - font-size:smaller; - margin-left: 17.5%; - margin-right: 17.5%; - padding: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - font-family:sans-serif, serif; } - - </style> - </head> -<body> -<p style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Forty Years of It, by Brand Whitlock</p> -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Forty Years of It</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Brand Whitlock</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67648]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTY YEARS OF IT ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" width="40%" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<h1>FORTY YEARS OF IT</h1> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="bbox"> -<p class="ph1">BY RALPH HENRY BARBOUR.</p> - - -<div class="indent">Benton’s Venture.</div> -<div class="indent">Around the End.</div> -<div class="indent">The Junior Trophy.</div> -<div class="indent">Change Signals!</div> -<div class="indent">For Yardley.</div> -<div class="indent">Finkler’s Field.</div> -<div class="indent">Winning His “Y.”</div> -<div class="indent">The New Boy at Hilltop.</div> -<div class="indent">Double Play.</div> -<div class="indent">Forward Pass!</div> -<div class="indent">The Spirit of the School.</div> -<div class="indent">Four in Camp.</div> -<div class="indent">Four Afoot.</div> -<div class="indent">Four Afloat.</div> -<div class="indent">The Arrival of Jimpson.</div> -<div class="indent">Behind the Line.</div> -<div class="indent">Captain of the Crew.</div> -<div class="indent">For the Honor of the School.</div> -<div class="indent">The Half-Back.</div> -<div class="indent">On Your Mark.</div> -<div class="indent">Weatherby’s Inning.</div> - - -<hr class="tb" /> -<p class="center">D. APPLETON & COMPANY, NEW YORK.</p> -</div></div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<p class="ph2">FORTY<br /> -YEARS OF IT</p> - -<p>BY<br /> -<span class="large">BRAND WHITLOCK</span></p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p><span class="large">NEW YORK AND LONDON<br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -MCMXIV</span></p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1914, by</span><br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -<br /> -Copyright, 1913, by <span class="smcap">The Phillips Publishing Company</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -Printed in the United States of America</p> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="center"> -TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> -MY FATHER<br /> -<br /> -<span class="large">ELIAS D. WHITLOCK</span><br /> -<br /> -WHO DIED DECEMBER 23, 1913<br /> -<br /> -A MINISTER OF THE SANCTUARY, AND<br /> -OF THE TRUE TABERNACLE, WHICH<br /> -THE LORD PITCHED, AND NOT MAN</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[vii]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">INTRODUCTION</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The history of democracy’s progress in a mid-Western -city—so, to introduce this book in specific -terms, one perhaps inevitably must call it. Yet in -using the word <i>democracy</i>, one must plead for a distinction, -or, better, a reversion, indicated by the -curious anchylosis that, at a certain point in their -maturity, usually sets in upon words newly put in -use to express some august and large spiritual reality. -We all know how this materializing tendency, -if one may call it that, has affected our notion and -our use of the commonest religious terms like <i>faith</i>, -<i>grace</i>, <i>salvation</i>, for instance. Their connotation, -originally fluid, spiritual and subjective, has become -concrete, limited, partial, ignoble. So, too, in our -common speech, even above the catchpenny vocabulary -of the demagogue or politician, the word <i>democracy</i> -has taken on the limited, partial and ignoble -connotation of more or less incidental and -provisional forms of democracy’s practical outcome; -or even of by-products not directly traceable to -the action of democracy itself. How often, for example, -do we see direct primaries, the single tax, -the initiative and referendum posed in a kind of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">[viii]</span> -sacramental relation to “fundamental democracy”; -or the “essential movement of democracy” measured, -say, by the increased returns on the Socialist -ticket at some local election!</p> - -<p>The permanent value of this book is that it proceeds -out of a truly adequate and philosophical conception -of democracy. That the collective human -spirit should know itself, καταμαθεῖν τὴν φύσιν καὶ ταύτη -ἕπεσθαι, that the state, the communal unit, should be, -in Mr. Arnold’s phrase, “the expression of our best -self, which is not manifold and vulgar and unstable -and contentious and ever varying, but one and noble -and secure and peaceful and the same for all mankind”; -here we have in outline the operation of -democracy. One could not give this volume higher -praise than to say, as in justice one must say, that -it clearly discerns and abundantly conveys the -spirit which works in human nature toward this end.</p> - -<p>How important it is to maintain this fluid, philosophical -and spiritual view of democracy may be -seen when we look about us and consider the plight -of those—especially the many now concerned in -politics, whether professionally or as eager amateurs—who -for lack of it confuse various aspects of -the political problem of liberty with the social problem -of equality. With political liberty or with self-expression -of the individual in politics, democracy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[ix]</span> -has, and ever has had, very little to do. It is our -turbid thought about democracy that prevents our -seeing this. The aristocratic and truculent barons -did more for the political freedom of Englishmen -than was ever done by democracy; a selfish and -sensual king did more to gain the individual Englishman -his freedom of self-expression in politics. -In our own country it is matter of open and notorious -fact that a political party whose every sentiment -and tendency is aristocratic has been the one -to bring about the largest measures of political enfranchisement. -Now, surely, one may heartily welcome -every enlargement of political liberty, but if -one attributes them to a parentage which is not -theirs, if one relates them under <i>democracy</i>, the -penalty which nature inexorably imposes upon error -is sure to follow. If, therefore, in the following -pages the author seems occasionally lukewarm -toward certain enfranchising measures, I do not -understand that he disparages them, but only that -he sees—as their advocates, firmly set in the confusion -we speak of, cannot see—that their connection -with democracy is extremely indistinct and remote. -<i>Equality</i>—a social problem, not to be -worked out by the mechanics of politics, but appealing -wholly to the best self, the best reason and -spirit of man,—this is democracy’s concern, democracy’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[x]</span> -chief interest. It is to our author’s -praise, again, that he sees this clearly and expresses -it convincingly.</p> - -<p>By far the most admirable and impressive picture -in this book appears to me to be that which the -author has all unconsciously drawn of himself. It -reveals once more that tragedy—the most profound, -most common and most neglected of all the multitude -of useless tragedies that our weak and wasteful -civilization by sheer indifference permits—the -tragedy of a richly gifted nature denied the opportunity -of congenial self-expression. What by comparison -is the tragedy of starvation, since so very -many willingly starve, if haply they may find this -opportunity? The author is an artist, a born artist. -His natural place is in a world unknown and -undreamed of by us children of an age commissioned -to carry out the great idea of industrial and political -development. He belongs by birthright in the -eternal realm of divine impossibilities, of sublime -and delightful inconsistencies. Greatly might he -have fulfilled his destiny in music, in poetry, in painting -had he been born at one of those periods when -spiritual activity was all but universal, when spiritual -ideas were popular and dominant, <i>volitantes per -ora virum</i>, part of the very air one breathed—in -the Greece of Pericles, the England of Elizabeth, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[xi]</span> -on the Tuscan hills at the time of the Florentine -Renaissance! But this was not to be. An admirer, -jealous of every possible qualification, reminds me -that I should call him at least a philosophical artist; -yes, but not by nature even that. The toga did not -drop upon him readymade from a celestial loom. It -was woven and fitted laboriously by his own hands. -He sought philosophical consistency and found it -and established himself in it; but only as part of -the difficult general discipline of an alien life.</p> - -<p>What an iron discipline, and how thoroughly alien -a life, stands revealed to the eye of poetic insight -and the spirit of sympathetic delicacy, on every -page of these memoirs. For the over-refined (as we -say), the oversensitive soul of a born artist—think -of the experience, think of the achievement! The -very opposite of all that makes a politician, appraising -politics always at their precise value, yet patiently -spending all the formative years of his life -in the debilitating air of politics for the sake of what -he might indirectly accomplish. Not an executive, -yet incessantly occupied with tedious details of administrative -work, for the satisfaction of knowing -them well done. Not a philosopher, yet laboriously -making himself what Glanvil quaintly calls “one of -those larger souls who have traveled the divers climates -of opinion” until he acquired a social philosophy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[xii]</span> -that should meet his own exacting demands.</p> - -<p>Is it too much, then, that I invite the reader’s -forbearance with these paragraphs to show why our -author should himself take rank and estimation with -the great men whom he reverently pictures? He -tells the story of Altgeld and of Johnson, energetic -champions of the newer political freedom. He tells -the story of Jones, the incomparable true democrat, -one of the children of light and sons of the Resurrection, -such as appear but once in an era. And in -the telling of these men and of himself as the alien -and, in his own view, largely accidental continuator -of their work, it seems to me that he indicates the -process by which he too has worked out his own -position among them as “one of those consoling -and hope-inspiring marks which stand forever to -remind our weak and easily discouraged race how -high human goodness and perseverance have once -been carried and may be carried again.”</p> - -<p class="right"><span class="smcap">Albert Jay Nock.</span></p> - -<p><span class="smcap">The American Magazine,<br /> -<span class="indentleft">New York.</span></span></p> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<p class="ph2">FORTY YEARS OF IT</p> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[1]</span> -<p class="ph2">FORTY YEARS OF IT</p> - -<h2 class="nobreak">I</h2> -</div> - - -<p>One hot afternoon in the summer of my tenth -year, my grandfather, having finished the nap he was -accustomed to take after the heavy dinner which, in -those days, was served at noon in his house, told me -that I might go up town with him. This was not -only a relief, but a prospect of adventure. It was -a relief to have him finish his nap, because while he -was taking his nap, my grandmother drew down -at all the windows the heavy green shades, which, -brought home by the family after a residence in Nuremberg, -were decorated at the bottom with a frieze -depicting scenes along the Rhine, and a heavy and -somnolent silence was imposed on all the house. -When my grandfather took his nap, life seemed to -pause, all activities were held in suspense.</p> - -<p>And the prospect was as a pleasant adventure, -because whenever my grandfather let me go up -town with him he always made me a present, which -was sure to be more valuable, more expensive, than -those little gifts at home, bestowed as rewards of -various merits and sacrifices related to that institution -of the afternoon nap, and forthcoming if he -got through the nap satisfactorily, that is, without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[2]</span> -being awakened. They consisted of mere money, the -little five or ten cent notes of green scrip; “shin-plasters” -they were called, I believe, in those days.</p> - -<p>When my grandfather had rearranged his toilet, -combing his thick white hair and then immediately -running his fingers through it to rumple it up and -give him a savage aspect, we set forth.</p> - -<p>He wore broad polished shoes, low, and fastened -with buckles, and against the black of his attire -his stiffly starched, immaculate white waistcoat was -conspicuous. Only a few of its lower buttons of -pearl were fastened; above that it was open, and -from one of the buttonholes, the second from the -top, his long gold watch-chain hung from its large -gold hook. The black cravat was not hidden by -his white beard, which he did not wear as long as -many Ohio gentlemen of that day, and he was -crowned by a large Panama hat, yellowed by years -of summer service, and bisected by a ridge that began -at the middle of the broad brim directly in front, -ran back, climbed and surmounted the large high -crown, and then, descending, ended its impressive -career at the middle of the broad brim behind.</p> - -<p>I was walking on his left hand, near the fence, -but as we entered the shade of the elms and shrubbery -of the Swedenborgian churchyard, I went -around to his other side, because a ghost dwelt in -the Swedenborgian churchyard. My cousin had -pointed it out to me, and once I had seen it distinctly.</p> - -<p>The precaution was unnecessary, for I had long -known my grandfather for a brave man. He had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[3]</span> -been a soldier, and many persons in Urbana still saluted -him as major, though at that time he was -mayor; going up town, in fact, meant to go to the -town hall before going anywhere else. In the shade -he removed his hat, and taking out a large silk -handkerchief, passed it several times over his red, -perspiring face.</p> - -<p>It was, as I have said, a hot afternoon, even for -an August afternoon in Ohio, and it was the hottest -hour of the afternoon. Main Street, when we -turned into it presently, was deserted, and wore an -unreal appearance, like the street of the dead -town that was painted on the scene at the “opera-house.” -Far to the south it stretched its interminable -length in white dust, until its trees came together -in that mysterious distance where the fairgrounds -were, and to the north its vista was closed -by the bronze figure of the cavalryman standing -on his pedestal in the Square, his head bowed in sad -meditation, one gauntleted hand resting on his hip, -the other on his saber-hilt. Out over the thick dust -of the street the heat quivered and vibrated, and -if you squinted in the sun at the cavalryman, he -seemed to move, to tremble, in the shimmer of that -choking atmosphere.</p> - -<p>The town hall stood in Market Square; for, in -addition to <i>the</i> Square, where the bronze cavalryman -stood on his pedestal, there was Market Square, -the day of civic centers not having dawned on Urbana -in that time, nor, doubtless, in this.</p> - -<p>Market Square was not a square, however, but -a parallelogram, and on one side of it, fronting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[4]</span> -Main Street, was the town hall, a low building of -brick, representing in itself an amazing unity of -municipal functions—the germ of the group plan, -no doubt, and, after all, in its little way, a civic -center indeed. For there, in an auditorium, plays -were staged before a populace innocent of the fact -that it had a municipal theater, and in another room -the city council sat, with representatives from -Lighttown, and Gooseville, and Guinea, and the -other <i>faubourgs</i> of our little municipality. Under -that long low roof, too, were the “calaboose” and -the headquarters of the fire department. Back of -these the structure sloped away into a market-house -of some sort, with a public scales, and broad, low, -overhanging eaves, in the shade of which firemen, -and the city marshal, and other officials, in the dim -retrospect, seem to have devoted their leisure to the -game of checkers.</p> - -<p>On the opposite side of Market Square there was -a line of brick buildings, painted once, perhaps, and -now of a faint pink or cerise which certain of the -higher and more artistic grades of calcimining assume, -and there seems to have been a series, almost -interminable, of small saloons—declining and fading -away somewhere to the east, in the dark purlieus of -Guinea.</p> - -<p>Here, along this line of saloons, if it was a line -of saloons, or, if it was not, along the side of the -principal saloon which in those wet days commanded -that corner, there were always several carts, driven -by Irishmen from Lighttown, smoking short clay -pipes, and two-wheeled drays driven by negroes from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[5]</span> -Guinea or Gooseville. These negro drivers were -burly men with shining black skins and gleaming -eyes and teeth, whose merry laughter was almost belied -by the ferocious, brutal whips they carried—whips -precisely like that <i>Simon Legree</i> had wielded -in the play in the theater just across the Square, -now, by a stroke of poetic justice, in the hands of -<i>Uncle Tom</i> himself. But on this day the firemen -were not to be seen under the eaves of the market-house; -their checker-boards were quite abandoned. -The mules between the shafts of these two-wheeled -drays hung their heads and their long ears drooped -under the heat, and their black masters were curled -up on the sidewalk against the wall of the saloon, -asleep. The Irishmen were nowhere to be seen, and -Market Square was empty, deserted, and sprawled -there reflecting the light in a blinding way, while -from the yellow, dusty level of its cobbled surface -rose, wave on wave, palpably, that trembling, shimmering, -vibrating heat. And yet, there was one -waking, living thing in sight. There, out in the middle -of the Square he stood, a dusty, drab figure, with -an old felt hat on a head that must have ached and -throbbed in that implacable heat, with a mass of -rags upon him, his frayed trousers gathered at his -ankles and bound about by irons, and a ball and -chain to bind him to that spot. He had a broom in -his hands, and was aimlessly making a little smudge -of dust, doing his part in the observance of an old, -cruel, and hideous superstition.</p> - -<p>I knew, of course, that he was a prisoner. Usually -there were three or four, sometimes half a dozen,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[6]</span> -such as he. They were the chain-gang, and they -were Bad—made so by Rum. I knew that they -were brought out of the calaboose, that damp, dark -place under the roof of the market-house, somewhere -between the office of the mayor and the headquarters -of the fire department; and glimpses were to be -caught now and then of their faces pressed against -those bars.</p> - -<p>When, under the shade of the broad eaves, we -were about to enter the mayor’s office, my grandfather -motioned to the prisoner out there in the -center of the Square, who with a new alacrity -dropped his broom, picked up his ball, and lugging -it in his arms, came up close to us, so very close -that I could see the sweat that drenched his forehead, -stood in great beads on his upper lip, matted -the hair on his forearms, stained with dark splashes -his old shirt, and glistened on his throat and breast, -burned red by the sun. He dropped his ball, -took off that rag of a hat, raised eyelids that -were powdered with dust, and looked at my grandfather.</p> - -<p>“How many days did I give you?” my grandfather -asked him.</p> - -<p>“Fifteen, your honor,” he said.</p> - -<p>“How long have you been in?”</p> - -<p>“Three days, your honor.”</p> - -<p>“Are you the only one in there?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, your honor.”</p> - -<p>My grandfather paused and looked at him.</p> - -<p>“Pretty hot out there, isn’t it?” asked my grandfather.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[7]</span>The prisoner smiled, a smile exactly like that -anyone would have for such a question, but the -smile flickered from his face, as he said:</p> - -<p>“Yes, your honor.”</p> - -<p>My grandfather looked out over the Square and -up and down. There was no one anywhere to be seen.</p> - -<p>“Well, come on into the office.”</p> - -<p>The prisoner picked up his ball, and followed my -grandfather into the mayor’s office. My grandfather -went to a desk, drew out a drawer, fumbled in it, -found a key, and with this he stooped and unlocked -the irons on the prisoner’s ankles. But he did not -remove the irons—he seated himself in the large -chair, and leaned comfortably against its squeaking -cane back.</p> - -<p>“Now,” my grandfather said, “you go out there -in the Square—be careful not to knock the leg irons -off as you go,—and you sweep around for a little -while, and when the coast is clear you kick them -off and light out.”</p> - -<p>The creature in the drab rags looked at my -grandfather a moment, opened his lips, closed them, -swallowed, and then....</p> - -<p>“You’d better hurry,” said my grandfather, “I -don’t know what minute the marshal——”</p> - -<p>The prisoner gathered up his ball, hugged it carefully, -almost tenderly, in his arms, and, with infinity -delicacy as to the irons on his feet, he shuffled carefully, -yet somehow swiftly out. I saw him an instant -in the brilliant glittering sunlight framed by -the door; he looked back, and then he disappeared,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[8]</span> -leaving only the blank surface of the cobblestones -with the heat trembling over them.</p> - -<p>My grandfather put on his glasses, turned to his -desk, and took up some papers there. And I waited, -in the still, hot room. The minutes were ticked -off by the clock. I wondered at each loud tick if -it was the minute in which it would be proper for -the prisoner to kick off those irons from his ankles -and start to run. And then, after a few minutes, -a man appeared in the doorway, and said breathlessly:</p> - -<p>“Joe, he has escaped!”</p> - -<p>It was Uncle John, a brother of my grandfather, -one of the Brands of Kentucky, then on a visit—one -of those long visits by which he and my grandfather -sought to make up the large arrears of the -differences, the divisions, and the separations of the -great war. He was nearly of my grandfather’s -age, and like him a large man, with a white though -longer beard. At his entrance my grandfather did -not turn, nor speak, and Uncle John Brand cried -again:</p> - -<p>“Joe, he’s gone, I tell you; he’s getting -away!”</p> - -<p>My grandfather looked up then from his papers -and said:</p> - -<p>“John, you’d better come in out of that heat and -sit down. You’re excited.”</p> - -<p>“But he’s getting away, I tell you! Don’t you -understand?”</p> - -<p>“Who is getting away?”</p> - -<p>“Why, that prisoner.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span>“What prisoner?”</p> - -<p>“The prisoner out there in the Square. He has -escaped! He’s gone!”</p> - -<p>“But how do you know?”</p> - -<p>“I just saw him running down Main Street like -a streak of lightning.”</p> - -<p>My grandfather took out his silk handkerchief, -passed it over his brow, and said:</p> - -<p>“To think of anyone running on a day like this!”</p> - -<p>And Uncle John Brand stood there and gazed at -his brother with an expression of despair.</p> - -<p>“Can’t you understand,” he said, speaking in -an intense tone, as if somehow to impress my grandfather -with the importance of this event in society, -“can’t you understand that the prisoner out there -in the Square has broken away, has escaped, and at -this minute is running down Main Street, and that -he’s getting farther and farther away with each -moment that you sit there?”</p> - -<p>I had a vivid picture of the man running with long -strides, in the soft dust of Main Street; he must -even then, I fancied, be far down the street; he -must indeed be down by Bailey’s, and perhaps -Bailey’s dog was rushing out at him, barking. And -I hoped he would run faster, and faster, and get -away, though I felt it was wrong to hope this. -Uncle John Brand seemed to be right; though I -did not like him as I liked my grandfather.</p> - -<p>“But how could he get away?” my grandfather -was asking. “He was in irons.”</p> - -<p>“He got the irons off somehow,” Uncle John -Brand said, exasperated; “I don’t know how. He<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span> -didn’t stop to explain!” He found a relief in this -fine sarcasm, and then said:</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to do anything?”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said my grandfather, with an irresolution -quite uncommon in him, “I suppose I really -ought to do something. But I don’t know just what -to do.” He sat up, and looked about all over the -room. “You don’t see the marshal, do you?”</p> - -<p>Uncle John Brand was looking at him now in -disgust.</p> - -<p>“Just look outside there, will you, John,” my -grandfather went on, “and see if you can find him? -If you do, send him in, and I’ll speak to him and -have him go after the prisoner.”</p> - -<p>Uncle John Brand of Kentucky stood a moment -in the doorway, finding no words with which to express -himself, and then went out. And when he -had gone my grandfather leaned back in his chair -and laughed and laughed; laughed until his ruddy -face became much redder than it was even from the -heat of that day.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">II</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Now that I have set down, with such particularity, -an incident which I could not wholly understand -nor reconcile with the established order of things -until many years after, I am not so sure after all -that I witnessed it in that Urbana of reality; it -may have been in that Urbana of the memory, -wherein related scenes and incidents have coalesced -with the witnessed event, or in that Macochee of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span> -certain of my attempts in fiction, though I have always -hoped that the fiction was the essential reality -of life, and have tried to make it so.</p> - -<p>I am certain, however, that the incident as related -is entirely authentic, for I have recently made inquiries -and established it beyond a reasonable doubt, -as the lawyers say, in all its details as here given. I -say in all its details, save possibly as to that of my -own corporeal presence on the scene, at the actual -moment of the occurrence. Only the other day I -asked a favorite aunt of mine, and she remembered -the incident perfectly, and many another similar -to it. “It was just like him,” she added, with a -dubious, though tolerant fondness. But when, like -the insistent, questioning child in one of Riley’s -Hoosier poems, I asked her if I had been there, she -said she could not remember.</p> - -<p>But whether I was there in the flesh or not, or -whether the whole reality of that scene, so poignant, -and insistent, and indelible, with its denial of the -grounds of authority, its challenge to the bases of -society, its shock to the orthodox mind (like that -of John Brand of Kentucky, a strict constructionist, -who believed in the old Constitution, and even -then, in slavery), remains in my memory as the result -of one of those tricks of a mind that has always -dramatized scenes for its own amusement, I was -there in spirit, and, indeed, at many another scene -in the life of Joseph Carter Brand, whose name my -mother gave me as a good heritage. Whatever the -bald and banal physical fact may have been, I was -either present at the actual or in imagination at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span> -described scene to such purpose that from it I derived -an impression never to be erased from my -mind.</p> - -<p>It is not given to all of us to say with such particularity -and emphasis, just what we learned from -each person who has touched our existences and -affected the trend of our lives, as it was given to -Marcus Aurelius, for instance, so that one may say -that from Rusticus one received this impression, or -that from Apollonius one learned this and from -Alexander the Platonic that; we must rather ascribe -our little store of knowledge generally to the gods. -But I am sure that no one was ever long with Joseph -Carter Brand, or came to know him well, without -learning that rarest and most beautiful of all -the graces or of all the virtues—Pity.</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">He, too, had tears for all souls in trouble</div> -<div class="verse">Here, and in hell.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Perhaps it is not so much pity as sympathy that -I mean, but whether it was pity or sympathy, it -was that divine quality in man which enables him -to imagine the sorrows of others, to understand -what they feel, to suffer with them; in a word, the -ability to put himself in the other fellow’s place—the -hallmark, I believe, of true culture, far more -than any degree or doctor’s hood could possibly be.</p> - -<p>It may have been some such feeling as this for -the negroes that led him, when a young man in Kentucky, -to renounce a patrimony of slaves and come -north. It was not, to be sure, a very large patrimony,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span> -for his father was a farmer in a rather small -way in Bourbon County, and owned a few slaves, but -whatever the motive, he refused to own human chattels -and left Bourbon County, where his branch of -the Brands had lived since their emigration from -Virginia, to which colony, so long before, their original -had come as a Jacobite exile from Forfarshire -in Scotland.</p> - -<p>My grandfather came north into Ohio and Champaign -County, and he had not been there very long -before he went back to Virginia and married Lavina -Talbott, and when they went to live on the farm he -called “Pretty Prairie,” he soon found himself deep -in Ohio politics, as it seems the fate of most Ohioans -to be, and continued in that element all his life. He -had his political principles from Henry Clay,—he -had been to Ashland and had known the family,—and -he was elected as a Whig to the legislature in -1842 and to the State Senate of Ohio in 1854. There -he learned to know and to admire Salmon P. Chase, -then governor of Ohio, and it was not long until -he was in the Abolitionist movement, and he got into -it so deeply that nothing less than the Civil War -could ever have got him out, for he was in open -defiance, most of the time, to the Fugitive Slave -Law.</p> - -<p>One of the accomplishments in which he took -pride, perhaps next to his ability as a horseman, -was his skill with the rifle, acquired in Kentucky at -the expense of squirrels in the tops of tall trees (he -could snuff a candle with a rifle), and this ability -he placed at the service of a negro named Ad White,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span> -who had run away from his master in the South, -and was hidden in a corn-crib near Urbana when -overtaken by United States marshals from Cincinnati. -The negro was armed, and was defending -himself, when my grandfather and his friend Ichabod -Corwin, of a name tolerably well known in Ohio history, -went to his assistance, and drove the marshals -off by the hot fire of their rifles. The marshals retreated, -and came up later with reinforcements, -strong enough to overpower Judge Corwin and my -grandfather, but the negro had escaped.</p> - -<p>The scrape was an expensive one; there were -proceedings against them in the United States -court in Cincinnati, and they only got out of it -years after when the Fugitive Slave Law was rapidly -becoming no law, and Ad White could live near Urbana -in peace during a long life, and be pointed -out as an interesting relic of the great conflict.</p> - -<p>This adventure befell my grandfather in 1858, -when he had been a Republican for two years, having -been a delegate to the first convention of the -party in 1856, the one that met in Pittsburgh, before -the nominating convention which named Frémont had -met in Philadelphia. He had attended that convention -with Cassius M. Clay of Kentucky, and shared -quarters with him at the hotel.</p> - -<p>In 1908, in the Coliseum at Chicago, when the -Republican National Convention was in session, -there were conducted to the stage one morning, and -introduced to the delegates, two old gentlemen who -had been delegates to that first convention of the -party, and after they had been presented and duly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span> -celebrated by the chairman and cheered by the delegates -they were assiduously given seats in large -chairs, and there, throughout the session, side by -side they sat, their hands clasped over the crooks of -their heavy canes, their white old heads unsteady, -peering out in a certain purblind, bewildered, aged -way over that mighty assembly of the power and the -wealth, the respectability and the authority, of the -nation—far other than that revolutionary gathering -they had attended half a century before!</p> - -<p>All through the session, now and then, I would -look at them; there was a certain indefinable pathos -in them, they sat so still, they were so old, there -was in their attitude the acquiescence of age—and -I would recall my grandfather’s stories of the days -when they were the force in the Republic, and the -runaway “niggers,” and the rifles, and the great -blazing up of liberty in the land, and it seemed to me -that Time, or what Thomas Hardy calls the Ironic -Spirit, or perhaps it was only the politicians who -were managing the convention, had played some -grotesque, stupendous joke on those patriarchs. Did -their old eyes, gazing so strangely on that scene, -behold its implications? Did they descry the guide-post -that told them how far away they really were -from that first convention and its ideals?</p> - -<p>But whatever the reflections of those two aboriginal -Republicans, or whatever emotions or speculations -they may have inspired in those who saw them,—the -torch of liberty being ever brandished somewhere -in this world and tossed from hand to hand,—they -had done their part in their day, and might<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span> -presumably be allowed to look on at the antics of -men wherever they chose, in peace. They had -known Lincoln, no inconsiderable distinction in -itself!</p> - -<p>Out of that first convention my grandfather, like -them, had gone, and he had done his part to help -elect Lincoln after Lincoln had defeated Chase in -the Chicago convention of 1860, and had been nominated -for the presidency. And then, with his man -elected, my grandfather had gone into the war that -broke upon the land.</p> - -<p>He went in with the 66th Ohio Volunteer Infantry, -a regiment which he was commissioned by Governor -Dennison to recruit at Urbana, and when it -was marshaled in camp near Urbana its command -was offered him, an honor and a responsibility he declined -because, he said, he knew nothing of the art -of war, if it is an art, or of its science, if it is a -science, and so was content with the shoulder-straps -of a captain. One of his sons, a lieutenant in the -regular army, was already at the front with his -regiment, and another son was a captain in the 66th, -and later on, when my grandfather had been transferred -to the Department of Subsistence, he took -his youngest son with him in the capacity of a -clerk, so that the men of his family were away to -the war for those four years, and the women remained -behind, making housewives and scraping lint, -and watching, and waiting, and praying, and enduring -all those hardships and making all those -sacrifices which are so lauded by the poetic and the -sentimental and yet are not enough to entitle them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> -to a voice in that government in whose cause they -are made.</p> - -<p>The situation was made all the more poignant -because the great issue had separated the family, -and there were brothers and cousins on the other -side, though one of these, in the person of Aunt Lucretia, -chose that inauspicious time to come over -from the other side all the way from Virginia, to -pay a visit, and celebrated the report of a Confederate -victory by parading up town with a butternut -badge on her bosom. She sailed several times about -the Square, with her head held high and her crinolines -rustling and standing out, and her butternut -badge in evidence, and was rescued by my grandmother, -who, hearing of her temerity, went up town -in desperation and in fear that she might arrive -too late. It was a story I was fond of hearing, -and as I pictured the lively scene I always had the -statue of the cavalryman as a figure in the picture—though -of course the statue could not have been -in existence during the war, since it was erected as -a memorial to the 66th and a monument to its fallen -heroes and their deeds. The cavalryman, an officer -wearing a romantic cloak and the old plumed hat -of the military fashion of that date, and leaning on -his saber in a gloomy way, I always thought was a -figure of my uncle, that Captain Brand who went -out with the 66th, just as I thought for a long time -that the Civil War was practically fought out on -the northern side by the 66th, which was not so -strange perhaps, since nearly every family in Urbana -had been represented in the regiment, and they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span> -all talked of little else than the war for many years. -They called the 66th the “Bloody Sixty-sixth,” a -name I have since heard applied to other regiments, -but the honorable epithet was not undeserved by that -legion, for it had a long and most gallant record, -beginning with the Army of the Potomac and fighting -in all that army’s battles until after Gettysburg, -and then with the 11th and 12th corps it was transferred, -under Hooker, to the Army of the Tennessee, -at Chattanooga, in time for Lookout Mountain and -Missionary Ridge, after which it went with Sherman -to the sea, and thus completed the circuit of the -Confederacy.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">III</h2> -</div> - -<p>My grandfather, however, did not go with his -regiment to the West. He had been transferred to -the Commissary Department, and he remained with -the Army of the Potomac until the close of the war, -and it was on some detail connected with his duties -in that department that, in 1865, he went into Washington -and had the interview with President Lincoln -I so much liked to hear him tell about. It was not -in the course of his military duty that he went to -see the Commander-in-Chief; whatever those duties -were they were quickly discharged at the War Department, -so that, in the hours of freedom remaining -to him before he went back to the front, he did -what everyone likes to do in Washington,—he went -to see the President. But he went in no military -capacity; he went rather in that political capacity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span> -he so much preferred to the military, and he went as -to the chief he had so long known and loved and -followed.</p> - -<p>It would be his old friend Chase who presented -him to the President, but their conversation was -soon interrupted by the entrance of an aide who -announced the arrival in the White House grounds -of an Indiana regiment passing through Washington, -which, as seems to have been the case with most -regiments passing through the Capital, demanded a -speech from the President. And Lincoln complied, -and as he arose to go out he asked my grandfather -to accompany him, and they continued their talk on -the way. But when they stood in the White House -portico, and the regiment beheld the President and -saluted him with its lifted cheer, the aide stepped -to my grandfather’s side, and much to his chagrin—for -he had been held by the President while he -finished a story—told him that it would be necessary -for him to drop a few paces to the rear. It -was a little <i>contretemps</i> that embarrassed my grandfather, -but Lincoln, with his fine and delicate perceptions, -divined the whole situation, and met it -with that kindness which was so great a part of -the humor and humanness in him, by saying:</p> - -<p>“You see, Mr. Brand, they might not know which -was the President.”</p> - -<p>It was not long after that he was at Appomattox -and the first to issue rations to the hungry Confederates -who had just surrendered, and no act of -his life gave him quite as much satisfaction as to -have been the first to pour his whole supply of hardtack<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span> -into the blankets of those whom still and always -he remembered as of his own blood. And that -done, after they had ridden into Richmond, he was -relieved and was soon back in Washington calling -on Chase again. Chase asked him what he could -do for him, and my grandfather said there was but -one thing in the world he wanted: namely, to go -home; and a request so simple was granted with -that alacrity with which politicians grant requests -that, in their scope, fall so short of what -might have been expected. But it was not long until -Chase’s influence was requested in a more substantial -matter, and in 1870 my grandfather, with his wife -and two younger daughters, was on his way across -the Atlantic to Nuremberg, where President Grant -had appointed him consul.</p> - -<p>It was not, of course, until after his return from -the foreign experience that my conscious acquaintance -with him began. But when they returned and -opened the old house, and filled it with the spoil of -their European travel,—some wonderful mahogany -furniture and Dresden china, and other objects of -far more delight to us children,—he and I began a -friendship which lasted until his death, and was -marred by no misunderstanding, except, perhaps, -as to the number of hours his saddle-horse should -be ridden on the gallop, and the German he wished -me to read to him out of the little black-bound -volumes of Schiller and Goethe, which for years -were his companions. He held, no doubt with some -show of reason on his side, that if he could master -the language after he was sixty, I might learn at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span> -least to read it before I was sixteen. The task had -its discouragements, not lightened, even in after -years, when I read in their famous and delightful -correspondence Carlyle’s advice to Emerson to possess -himself of the German language; it could be -done, wrote Carlyle, in six weeks! But, like Emerson, -I was afflicted with the postponement and debility -of the blond constitution, and I observed that, -except in great moments of unappreciated sacrifice, -my grandfather preferred to read his German himself -rather than to listen to my renditions.</p> - -<p>I have spoken of the house as the old house, and I -do that as viewing it from the point of disadvantage -of the years that have gone since it grew out -of that haze and mist and darkness of early recollections -into a place that was ablaze with light at -evening and full of the constant wonder and delight -of the company of a large family. It was, indeed, -an old house then, with a high-gabled roof at -one wing, that made an attic which we called, with -a sense of its mystery, the “dark room,”—a room, -however, not so dark that I could not see to read -the old bound volumes of a newspaper an uncle had -once edited;—one could lie under the little gable -windows and pore over the immense quartos, or more -than quartos, and exercise the imagination by reading -of some long dead event, and, with a great effort, -project one’s self back to that time, and pretend -to read with none other than its contemporary -impressions.</p> - -<p>The cellar of the house was not so interesting, -though it was mysterious, and far more terrifying.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span> -There was a vast fireplace in the cellar, in which, -as Jane, the old colored woman who was sometimes -a cook and sometimes a nurse, once solemnly told -my cousin and me, the devil dwelt, so that I visited -it only once, and there so plainly saw the ugly horns -of that dark deity that we fled upstairs and into -the sunlight again. It may have been that the crane -and the andirons of the old fireplace helped out -the impression, though after the original suggestion -little was required to strengthen it, and we -never went down there again, except to lure a -younger cousin as far as the door to shudder in the -awful pleasure of witnessing her fear.</p> - -<p>This gabled wing had been the original house, -and additions had been built to it in two directions, -with a wide hall, somewhat after the southern fashion -in which so many houses in that part of Ohio were -built in those days.</p> - -<p>It seems larger in the retrospect than it is in -the reality, and I am not endowing it with the -spaciousness of a mansion; it was, in fact, a modest -dwelling of a dozen rooms, with an atmosphere that -was imparted to it by the furniture that had been -brought back from Europe, and the personality that -filled it.</p> - -<p>My grandfather conducted his establishment on -a scale of prodigality that had a certain patriarchal -air; he had a large family, and he loved to have -them all about him, and in the evenings they gathered -there at the piano they had bought in Berlin, -and when the candles in their curious brass sconces -had been lighted, there was music, for the whole<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span> -family possessed some of that talent which, as President -Eliot rightly declares in his lecture on “The -Happy Life,” contributes so much real pleasure. -My grandfather did not himself sing; or, at -least, he sang rarely, and then only one or two -Scotch songs, but when he could be induced to -do this, the event took on the festal air of a celebration.</p> - -<p>His two younger daughters had been educated -in music in Germany, and there was something more -of music in the house than the mere classic portraits -of Mozart and Beethoven which hung on the -wall near the painting of the old castle at Nuremberg. -They played duets, and once, at least, at a -recital given in the town, we achieved the distinction -of a number played on two pianos by my mother -and her three sisters.</p> - -<p>The May festivals in “the City,” as we called Cincinnati -in those days, were a part of existence, and -my first excursion into the larger world was when -my father took me to Cincinnati to hear Theodore -Thomas’s Orchestra, which proved to be an excursion -not only into a larger world, but eventually -into a larger life,—that life of music, that life of a -love of all the arts, which provides a consolation -that would be complete could I but express myself -in any one of them. I did, indeed, attempt some -expression of the joys of that experience, for with -more pretension than I could dare to-day, I wrote -a composition, or paper, on Music which was printed -in a child’s publication, and won for me a little -prize. It was twenty-two years before I was able<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span> -again to have any writing of mine accepted and -published by a magazine.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">IV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Urbana in those days was not without its atmosphere -of culture, influenced in a degree by the -presence of the Urbana University, a Swedenborgian -college which in the days before the war had -flourished, because so many of its students came -from the southern states. It declined after the -war, but even after that event, the presence of so -many persons of the Swedenborgian persuasion, -with their gentle manners and intellectual appreciation, -kept the traditions alive, and the college -itself continued, though not so flourishingly, on its -endowed foundation.</p> - -<p>One of the tutors in it was a young, brown-haired -man who several times a day passed by my grandfather’s -home on his way to and from his classes, -whom afterwards I came to admire for those writings -to which was signed the name of Hjalmar Hjorth -Boyesen. He did not remain long in Urbana, not -longer it seems than he could help, and to judge -from some of his pictures of various phases of its -life, he did not like the town as well as the Urbana -folk themselves liked it. It was a rather self-sufficient -town, I fancy, and it cared so little for change -that it has scarcely changed at all, save as one misses -the faces and the forms one used to see there in -other days. It was the home of the distinguished<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> -family, and the birthplace, too, of John Quincy -Adams Ward, the sculptor, and the possession of -a personality in itself distinguishes a town.</p> - -<p>I was walking with my father across Market -Square not long ago; it had shrunk in size and -seemed little and mean and sordid, despite the new -city hall that has replaced the old, and there was -no miserable prisoner idly sweeping the cobblestones, -though the negro drivers with their bull whips were -snoozing there as formerly.</p> - -<p>“They have been there ever since eighteen sixty-six,” -said my father, who had gone there in the -year he had mentioned on his coming out of college.</p> - -<p>His home was in Piqua, a town not far away, -where his father had retired to rest after his lifelong -labors on a farm he had himself “cleared” in Montgomery -County many years before. This paternal -grandfather was a large, gaunt, silent man, who -spoke little, and then mostly in a sardonic humor, -as when, during that awful pioneer work of felling -a forest to make a little plantation, he said to his -grown sons who were helping to clear away the underbrush -of a walnut wood:</p> - -<p>“Boys, what little you cut, pile here.”</p> - -<p>Few other of his sayings have been preserved, and -it may be that he has left behind an impression that -he never talked at all because he never talked politics, -and not to do that in Ohio dooms one to a -silence almost perpetual. He had once been a Democrat, -and had participated with such enthusiasm in -the campaign of 1856 that he had kept his horses’<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span> -tails and manes braided for a month that they -might roll forth in noble curls when they were loosened, -and the horses harnessed to a carriage containing -four veterans of the Revolution, who were to -be thus splendidly drawn to the raising of a tall -hickory pole in honor of James Buchanan, that year -a candidate for president. But the old diplomatist -made such a miserable weakling failure of his -administration that his Piqua partizan became -disgusted and renounced forever his interest in -political affairs, and, like Henry I., never smiled -again.</p> - -<p>But my Grandfather Brand, when he was not -talking about poetry or the war, was talking about -politics; sometimes world politics, for he was interested -in that; sometimes European politics, which -he had followed ever since in Paris he had witnessed -the outbreak of the Franco-Prussian War, or national -politics, or state politics, or, in default of a -larger interest, local politics, which in Ohio, as no -doubt elsewhere, sometimes looms largest and most -important of all, because, perhaps, as De Tocqueville -says, local assemblies constitute the strength of -free institutions.</p> - -<p>My grandfather was then, at the time of which -I am thinking even if I am not very specifically -writing about it, mayor—and continued to be mayor -for four terms. It was an office that was suited, no -doubt, to the leisure of his retirement, and while it -gave him the feeling of being occupied in public affairs, -it nevertheless left him opportunities enough -for his German poets, and for his horses and his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span> -farm out at Cable, and the strawberries he was beginning -to cultivate with the enthusiasm of an amateur.</p> - -<p>In such an atmosphere as that in the Ohio of those -days it was natural to be a Republican; it was more -than that, it was inevitable that one should be a Republican; -it was not a matter of intellectual choice, -it was a process of biological selection. The Republican -party was not a faction, not a group, not a -wing, it was an institution like those Emerson speaks -of in his essay on Politics, rooted like oak-trees in -the center around which men group themselves as -best they can. It was a fundamental and self-evident -thing, like life, and liberty, and the pursuit of -happiness, or like the flag, or the federal judiciary. -It was elemental, like gravity, the sun, the stars, the -ocean. It was merely a synonym for patriotism, another -name for the nation. One became, in Urbana -and in Ohio for many years, a Republican just as the -Eskimo dons fur clothes. It was inconceivable that -any self-respecting person should be a Democrat. -There were, perhaps, Democrats in Lighttown; but -then there were rebels in Alabama, and in the Ku-klux -Klan, about which we read in the evening, in -the Cincinnati <i>Gazette</i>.</p> - -<p>One of the perplexing and confounding anomalies -of existence was the fact that our neighbor, Mr. -L——, was a Democrat. That fact perhaps explained -to me why he walked so modestly, so unobtrusively, -in the shade, so close to the picket fences -of Reynolds Street, with his head bowed. I supposed that, -being a Democrat, it was only natural<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span> -for him to slink along. He was a lawyer and a -gentleman; my grandfather spoke with him, but -from my mind I could never banish the fact that -he was a Democrat, and to explain his bent, thoughtful -attitude I imagined another reason than the -fact that he was a meditative, studious man.</p> - -<p>Lawyers, of course, were Republicans, else how -could they deliver patriotic addresses on Decoration -Day and at the reunions of the 66th regiment? -It was natural for a young man to be a lawyer, then -to be elected prosecuting attorney, then to go to the -legislature, then to congress, then—governor, senator, -president. They could not, of course, go any -more to war and fight for liberty; that distinction -was no longer, unhappily, possible, but they could -be Republicans. The Republican party had saved -the Union, won liberty for all men, and there was -nothing left for the patriotic to do but to extol that -party, and to see to it that its members held office -under the government.</p> - -<p>In those days the party had many leaders in -Ohio who had served the nation in military or civil -capacity during the great crisis; scarcely a county -that had not some colonel or general whose personality -impressed the popular imagination; they -were looked up to, and revered, and in the political -campaigns their faces, pale or red in the flare of -the torches of those vast and tumultuous processions -that still staged the political contest in the -terms of war, looked down from the festooned platforms -in every public square. And yet they were -already remote, statuesque, oracular, and there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span> -the reverent sense that somehow placed them in the -ideal past, whose problems had all been happily -solved, rather than in the real present.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">V</h2> -</div> - - -<p>But up in the northwestern part of the state, -still referred to, even in days so late as those, with -something of the humorous contempt that attached -to the term, as the Black Swamp, there had risen -a young, fiery, and romantic figure who ignored the -past and flung himself with fierce ardor into a new -campaign for liberty. His words fell strangely on -ears that were accustomed to the reassurance that -liberty was at last conquered, and his doctrines perplexed -and irritated minds that had sunk into the -shallow optimism of a belief that there were no more -liberations needed in the world. It was not a new -cry, indeed, that he raised, but an old one thought -to have been stilled, and the standard he lifted in -the Black Swamp was looked upon by many Ohioans -as much askance as though it were another secession -flag of stars and bars. Indeed, it had long -been associated with the cause of the conquered -South, because that section, by reason of its economic -conditions, had long espoused the principle of -Free Trade.</p> - -<p>This young man was Frank Hunt Hurd, then -the congressman from the Toledo district, and in -that city, where my father was the pastor of a -church, he had won many followers and adherents,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span> -though not enough to keep him continually in his -seat in the House of Representatives.</p> - -<p>He served for several alternate terms, the interims -being filled by some orthodox nonentity, who -was so speedily forgotten that there must have been -an impression that for years our district was represented -by this one man.</p> - -<p>I had heard of him with that dim sense of his -position which a boy has of any public character, -but I had a real vivid conception of him after that -Fourth of July when, during a citizens’ celebration -which must have been so far patriotic as to forget, -for a time, partizanism, and to remember patriotism -sufficiently to include the Democrats, I saw -him conducted to the platform by our distinguished -citizen, David R. Locke, whom the world knew as -“Petroleum V. Nasby.”</p> - -<p>He delivered a patriotic oration, and anyone,—even -though he were but a wondering boy quite by -chance in attendance, standing on the outskirts of -the crowd, following some whim which for a while -kept him from his sports,—anyone who ever heard -Frank Hurd deliver an oration never forgot it afterward.</p> - -<p>I have no idea now what it was he said, perhaps -I had as little then, but his black hair, his handsome -face, his beautiful voice, and the majestic music -of his rolling phrases were wholly and completely -charming. He was explicitly an orator, a -student of the great art, and he formed his orations -on the ancient Greek models, writing them out with -exordium, proposition, and peroration, and while he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span> -did not perhaps exactly commit them to memory, -he, nevertheless, in the process of preparing them, -so completely possessed himself of them that he -poured forth his polished sentences without a flaw.</p> - -<p>His speech on Free Trade, delivered in the House -of Representatives, February 18, 1881, remains the -classic on that subject, ranking with Henry Clay’s -speech on “The American System,” delivered in the -Senate in 1832. In that address Frank Hurd began -with the phrase, “The tariff is a tax,” which acquired -much currency years after when Grover -Cleveland used it.</p> - -<p>Everyone, or nearly everyone, told me of course -that Frank Hurd was wrong, if he was not, indeed, -wicked, and the subject possessed a kind of fascination -for me. In thinking of it, or in trying to think -of it, I only perplexed myself more deeply, until at -last I reached the formidable, the momentous decision -of taking my perplexities to Frank Hurd himself, -and of laying them before him.</p> - -<p>I was by this time a youth of eighteen, and in -the summer when he had come home from Washington -I somehow found courage enough to go to -the hotel where he lived, and to inquire for him. He -was there in the lobby, standing by the cigar-stand, -talking to some men, and I hung on the outskirts of -the little group until it broke up, and then the -fear I had felt vanished when he turned and smiled -upon me. I told him that I wished to know about -Free Trade, and since there was nothing he liked -better to talk about, and too, since there were few -who could talk better about anything than he could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span> -talk about the tariff, we sat in the big leather chairs -while he discoursed simply on the subject. It was -the first at several of these conversations, or lessons, -which we had in the big leather chairs in the -lobby of the old Boody House, and it was not long -until I was able, with a solemn pride, to announce -at home that I was a Free-Trader and a Democrat.</p> - -<p>It could hardly have been worse had I announced -that I had been visiting Ingersoll, and was an atheist. -Cleveland was president, and in time he sent -his famous tariff reform message to Congress, and -though I could not vote, I was preparing to give -him my moral support, to wear his badge, and even, -if I could do no more, to refuse to march in the Republican -processions with the club of young men -and boys organized in our neighborhood.</p> - -<p>For the first time in my life I went on my vacation -trip to Urbana that summer with reluctance, -for the first time in my life I shrank from seeing -my grandfather. The wide front door opened, and -from the heat without to the dark and cool interior -of the hall I stepped; I prolonged the preliminaries, -I went through the familiar apartments, and out -into the garden to see how it grew that summer, -and down to the stable to see the horses; but the -inevitable hour drew on, and at last, with all the -trivial things said, all the personal questions asked, -we sat in the living-room, cool in the half-light produced -by its drawn shades, the soft air of summer -blowing through it, the odd old Nuremberg furniture, -the painting of the Nuremberg castle presented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span> -to my grandfather by the American artist whom he -had rescued from a scrape, the tall pier glass, with -the little vase of flowers on its marble base, and my -grandfather in his large chair, his white waistcoat -half unbuttoned and one side sagging with the weight -of the heavy watch-chain that descended from its -large hook, his white beard trimmed a little more -closely, his white hair bristling as aggressively as -ever—all the same, all as of old, like the reminders of -the old life and all its traditions now to be broken -and rendered forever and tragically different from -all it had been and meant. He sat there looking at -me, the blue eyes twinkling under their shaggy -brows, and stretched forth his long white hand in -the odd gesture with which he began his conversations. -Conversations with him, it suddenly developed, -were not easy to sustain; he pursued the -Socratic method. If you disagreed with him, he -lifted three fingers toward you, whether in menace -or in benediction it was difficult at times to determine, -and said:</p> - -<p>“Let me instruct you.”</p> - -<p>For instance:</p> - -<p>“Do you know why Napoleon III. lost the battle -of Sedan?” he might abruptly inquire.</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” you were expected to say. (You always -addressed him as “sir.”)</p> - -<p>“Let me instruct you.”</p> - -<p>Or:</p> - -<p>“Do you know who was the greatest English -poet?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir,” you would say, or, perhaps, in those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span> -days you might venture, “Was it Shakespeare, -sir?”</p> - -<p>Then he would look at you and say:</p> - -<p>“Let me instruct you.”</p> - -<p>This afternoon then, after I had inspected the -premises, noticed how much taller my cousin’s fir-tree -was than the one I called mine (we had planted -them one day, as little boys, years before), and -after I had had a drink at the old pump, which in -those days, before germs, brought up such cold, -clear water, and after I had ascended to my cool -room upstairs, and come downstairs again, and -we had idly talked for a little while, as I said, he -sat and looked at me a moment, and then said:</p> - -<p>“Do you understand this tariff question?”</p> - -<p>In those days I might have made the due, what I -might term with reference to that situation, the -conventional reply, and so have said:</p> - -<p>“No, sir.”</p> - -<p>In these days I am sure I should. But I hesitated. -He had already stretched forth his hand.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” I said.</p> - -<p>He drew in his hand, and for an instant touched -with his long fingers the end of his large nose. I -plunged ahead.</p> - -<p>“I am in favor of Free Trade, sir.”</p> - -<p>He did not extend his hand. He looked at me -a moment, and then he said:</p> - -<p>“You are quite right; we must support Mr. Cleveland -in the coming contest.”</p> - -<p>And then he sank back in his chair and laughed.</p> - -<p>He was always like that, following the truth as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span> -he saw it, wherever it led him. But his active days -were not many after that; ere long he was kicked by -one of his horses, a vicious animal, half bronco, -which he insisted on riding, and he was invalided for -the rest of his days. He spent them in a wheel-chair, -pushed about by a negro boy. It was a cross -he bore bravely enough, without complaint, spending -his hours in reading of politics, now that he could -no longer participate in them, and more and more -in reading verse, and even in committing it to memory, -so that to the surprise of his family he soon -replaced the grace he had always said at table with -some recited stanza of poetry, and he took to cultivating, -or to sitting in his chair while there was -cultivated, under his direction, a little rose garden. -He knew all those roses as though they were living -persons: when a lady called,—if the roses were in -bloom,—he would say to his colored house-boy:</p> - -<p>“Go cut off Madame Maintenon, and bring her -here.”</p> - -<p>Then he would present Madame Maintenon to -the caller with such a bow as he could make in his -chair, and an apology for not rising. He was patient -and brave, yet he did not like to feel the -scepter passing from him, and he resented what he -considered interferences with his liberties. One day -when he had returned from a visit to an old friend, -to whose home his colored boy had wheeled him, -one of his daughters asked, in a somewhat exaggerated -tone of propitiation:</p> - -<p>“Well, Father, how did you find Mr. Hovey?”</p> - -<p>“I found him master of his own house!” he blazed.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>In 1896 he supported Mr. Bryan, and his Republican -neighbors said:</p> - -<p>“Poor old Major Brand! His mind must be affected!”</p> - -<p>It was an effort for him to get out to the polls, -but he went, beholding in that conflict, as he could -in any conflict however confused and clouded, the -issue of free men above any other issue. He did -not get out much after that, even when that last -summer the few remnants of the 66th regiment gathered -in Urbana to hold the annual reunion. He -could not so much as get up town to greet his old -comrades, and they sent word that in the afternoon -they would march in review before his home. He -was wheeled out on the veranda, and there he sat -while his old regiment, the fifty or sixty gray, -broken men, marched past. They saluted as they -went by, and he returned the salutes with tears -streaming down the cheeks where I had never seen -tears before. And he said with a little choking -laugh:</p> - -<p>“Why, look at the boys!”</p> - -<p>It was not long after, that six of us, his grandsons, -bore him out of the old home forever. And -on his coffin were the two things that expressed him -best, I think—his roses and his flag.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">VI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The incalculable influence of the spoken word and -the consequent responsibility that weighs upon the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span> -lightest phrase have so long been urged that men -might well go about with their fingers on their lips, -oracular as presidential candidates, deliberating -each thought before giving it wing. And yet, as -Carlyle said of French speech, the immeasurable -tide flows on and ebbs only toward the small hours -of the morning. Though even then in certain quarters, -the tide does not ebb, and in those hours truths -are sometimes spoken—for instance, by newspaper -reporters, who, their night’s work done, turn to each -other for relaxation and speak those thoughts they -have not dared to write in their chronicles of the -day that is done. The thought itself is only a -vagrant, encountered along the way back to such -an evening, when a reporter uttered two little words -that acquired for me a profound significance.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing.” Those were the exact words, just -those two, and yet a negative so simple contained -within itself such an affirmation of an awful truth, -that I have never been able to forget them, though -for a time I tried. Charlie R—— and I had -gone one night, after the paper had gone to press, -into a little restaurant in Chicago to get some supper. -It was sometime in the year 1891, and, in -our idle gossip, the hanging of the anarchists, then -an event so recent that the reporters now and then -spoke of it, had come up in our talk.</p> - -<p>“Where were you when that occurred?” he asked.</p> - -<p>“In Toledo,” I answered.</p> - -<p>“What did people think of it there?”</p> - -<p>“Of the hanging?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>I looked at him, I suppose, in some astonishment. -What did people in Toledo think of the hanging -of the Chicago anarchists! Could any question have -been more stupid, more banal? What did any -people, anywhere, think of it? What was customary, -what was proper and appropriate and indispensable -under such circumstances? In a word, -what was there to do with anarchists except to -hang them? Really, I was quite at a loss what to -say. It seemed so superfluous, so ridiculous, as -though he had asked what the people in Toledo -thought of the world’s being round, or of the force -of gravity. More than superfluous, it was callous; -he might as well have asked what Toledo people -thought of the hanging of Haman, the son of Hammedatha -the Agagite, or of the suicide of Judas Iscariot. -And I answered promptly in their defense:</p> - -<p>“Why, they thought it was right, of course.”</p> - -<p>He had his elbows on the table and was lighting -a cigarette, and as he raised the match, his dark -face, with its closely trimmed pointed beard, was -suddenly and vividly illuminated by the yellow flame. -His eyes were lowered, their vision fixed just then -on the interesting process of igniting the end of -the cigarette. But about his puckered lips, about -his narrowed eyes there played a little smile, faint, -elusive, and yet of a meaning so indubitable that it -was altogether disconcerting. And in that instant -I wondered—it could not be! It was preposterous, -absurd!</p> - -<p>“Why?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Oh, nothing,” he said.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>The end of the cigarette was glowing, little coils -of fire in the tiny particles of tobacco; he blew out -the match and the smile disappeared from his face -with its ruddy illumination, and he tossed the -charred stick into his coffee cup.</p> - -<p>Were there, then, two opinions? Was it possible -that anyone doubted? When <i>anarchists</i> were -in question! Still, on that kindly face before me -there lingered the shadow of that strange expression, -inscrutable, perplexing, piquing curiosity. -And yet by some strange, almost clairvoyant process, -it had gradually acquired the effect of a persistent, -irresistible and implacable authority, in the -presence of which one felt—well, cheap, as though -there were secrets from which one had been excluded, -as though there were somewhere in this universe -a stupendous joke which alone of all others -one lacked the wit to see. It gave one a disturbed, -uneasy sensation, a <i>mauvaise honte</i>.</p> - -<p>The innate sense of personal dignity, the instinct -to retire into one’s self, the affectation of repose -and self-sufficiency which leads one lightly to wave -aside a subject one does not understand, to pass it -over for other and more familiar topics—these were -ineffectual. Curiosity perhaps in a sense much less -refined than that in which Matthew Arnold considered -it when he exalted it to the plane of the higher -virtues, broke down reticence, and, at last I asked, -and even begged my companion to tell me what he -meant. But he was implacable; he had reached, it -appeared, a stage of development in which the -opinions of others were of no consequence; an altitude<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span> -from which he could regard the race of men -impersonally, and permit them to stumble on in -error, without the desire to set them right. It was -quite useless to question him, and in the end the -only satisfaction he would give me was to say, with -an effort of dismissing the subject:</p> - -<p>“Ask some of the boys.”</p> - -<p>For a young citizen to whom society is yet an -illusion, lying, in Emerson’s figure, before him in -rigid repose, with certain names, men and institutions -rooted like oak-trees to the center, round -which all arrange themselves the best they can, to -have one of those oak-trees torn violently up by -the roots, is to experience a distinct shock. And -by two words, and an expression that played for -an instant in lowered eyes, and about lips that were -more concerned just then with the flattened end of -a fresh cigarette than the divulgence of great -truths! Yes, decidedly a shock, to leave one shaken -for days. If there were any doubt as to what to -do with anarchists, what was the use of going on -with the study of the law? I went out from that -cheap little restaurant in Fifth Avenue, into Chicago’s -depressing midnight streets—and the oak tree -never took root again. For, as Charlie R—— -had lightly suggested, I asked the boys, and by the -boys he meant, of course, the reporters.</p> - -<p>They were boys in spirit, though in the knowledge -of this world they were as aged men, some of whom -had seen so much of life that they were able to dwell -with it only by refusing any longer to accept it seriously. -They formed in that day an unusual group,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> -gathered in the old Whitechapel Club, and many of -their names have since become known to literature. -They, or most of them, had worked on the anarchist -cases, from the days of the strike in McCormick’s -reaper works, down to the night when the -vivid pen of Charlie Seymour could describe the -spark that soared in a parabolic curve from the alley -into Haymarket Square, and then to the black -morning of the hanging; and they knew.</p> - -<p>It was all very simple, too. If it were not for -the tragedy, and the wrong that is so much worse -than any tragedy, one might almost laugh at the -simplicity. It shows the power of words, the force -of phrases, the obdurate and terrible tyranny of -a term. The men who had been hanged were called -anarchists, when, as it happens, they were men, just -men. And out of that original error in terminology -there was evolved that overmastering fear which -raved and slew in a frenzy of passion that decades -hence will puzzle the psychologist who studies the -mind of the crowd. And the student of ethics will -find in the event another proof of the inerrancy -and power of that old law of moral action and reaction, -according to which hatred ceaseth not by -hatred, but by love alone. It may be found stated -accurately and simply in the Sermon on the Mount, -and there is still hope that Christendom, after another -thousand years or so, may discover it, and -drawing therefrom the law of social relations, apply -it to human affairs, and so solve the problems that -trouble and perplex mankind.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">VII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In speaking of the group of newspaper writers -who formed the Whitechapel Club, augmented as -they were by artists, and musicians and physicians -and lawyers, I would not give the impression that -they were in any sense reformers, or actuated by -the smug and forbidding spirit which too often inspires -that species. They were, indeed, wisely otherwise, -and they were, I think, wholly right minded -in their attitude toward what are called public questions, -and of these they had a deep and perspicacious -understanding, and it will be easy to imagine that -the cursory comments on passing phases of the human -spectacle of such minds as those of Charles -Goodyear Seymour, Finley Peter Dunne, George -Ade, Ben King, Opie Reed, Alfred Henry Lewis, and -his brother William E. Lewis, Frederick Upham Adams, -Thomas E. Powers, Horace Taylor, Wallace -Rice, Arthur Henry, and a score of others were -apt to be entertaining and instructive, though they -were uttered with such wit and humor that they -were never intended to be instructive.</p> - -<p>The club had been founded late in the eighties, -and although it endured less than ten years, it still -lives in the minds of newspaper and literary men -as one of the most remarkable of Bohemian clubs. -It had its rooms in the rear of a little saloon, conducted -by Henry Koster in “newspaper alley,” as -Calhoun Place was more generally called, near the -buildings of the <i>Chicago News</i> and the <i>Chicago<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span> -Herald</i>, and it somehow gathered to itself many of -the clever men of Chicago who were writing for -the press, and a few intimate spirits in other lines -of work, but of sympathetic spirit. For a while the -club was nameless, but one afternoon a group were -sitting in one of the rooms when a newsboy passed -through the alley and cried: “All about the latest -Whitechapel murder!” Seymour paused with a -stein of beer half lifted, and said: “We’ll call the -new club the ‘Whitechapel Club.’”</p> - -<p>I suppose the grewsome connotations of the name -led to our practice of collecting relics of the tragedies -we were constantly reporting. When he came -back from the Dakotas, where he had been reporting -the Sioux War, Seymour brought back from the -battles a number of skulls of Indians, and blankets -drenched in blood, which were hung on the walls -of the club. From that time on it became the practice -of sheriffs and newspaper men everywhere to -send anything of that kind to the Whitechapel Club. -The result was that within a few years it had a -large collection of skulls of criminals, and some -physicians discovered, or thought they discovered, -differences between these skulls and the skulls of -those who were not criminals, or, if they were, had -not been caught at it.</p> - -<p>These and the ropes of hangmen and the various -mementos of crimes were the decorations of the club -rooms, and on Saturday nights the hollow eyes of -those skulls looked down on many a lively scene.</p> - -<p>Admission to the club was obtained in a peculiar -way. An applicant for membership had his name<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span> -proposed, and it was then posted on a bulletin-board. -He was on probation for thirty days, during -which he had to be at the club at least five days -in the week, in order to become acquainted with the -members. Within that time any member could tear -his name down, and that ended his candidacy. -When his name finally came up for voting it required -the full vote of the club to get him in.</p> - -<p>And then we grew prosperous, and acquiring a -building farther down the alley, we had it decorated -in a somber manner, with a notable table, shaped like -a coffin, around which we gathered. But the prosperity -and the fame of the club led to its end. Rich -and important men of Chicago sought membership. -Some were admitted, then more, and as a result the -club lost its Bohemian character, and finally disbanded.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">VIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Those who are able to recall the symposium of -these minds will no doubt always see the humorous -face of Charlie Seymour as the center of the coterie, -a young man with such a <i>flair</i> for what was news, -with such an instinct for word values, such real -ability as a writer, and such a quaint and original -strain of humor as to make him the peer of any, -a young man who would have gone far and high -could he have lived. An early fate overtook him, -as it overtook Charlie Perkins and Charlie Almy -and Ben King, but their fate had the mellowing kindness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span> -of the fact that all who knew them can never -think of them, with however much regret, without -a smile at some remembered instance of their unfailing -humor.</p> - -<p>When I mentioned them, I had fully intended to -give some instances of that humor, but when it was -not of a raciness, it was of such a rare and delicate -charm, such a fleeting, evanescent quality, that it is -impossible to separate it from all that was going on -about it. It is easy enough to recall if not to evoke -again the scene in which Ben King and Charlie Almy, -sitting for three hours at a stretch, gave a wholly -impromptu impersonation of two solemn missionaries -just returned from some unmapped wilderness -and recounting their deeds in order to inspire contributions; -it is not difficult either to recall the -slight figure of Charlie Seymour, with his red hair, -his comedian’s droll face, and to listen to him recounting -those adventures which life was ever offering -him, whether on one of his many journeys as -a war correspondent to the region of the Dakotas -when his friends among the Ogallalla and Brûlé -Sioux were on the war-path again, or in some less -picturesque tragedy he had been reporting nearer -home—say a murder in South Clark Street; but, -like so many of the keener joys of life, the charm -of his stories was fleeting and gone with the moment -that gave them.</p> - -<p>His humor colored everything he wrote, as the -humor of Finley Peter Dunne colored everything he -wrote; and both were skilled in the art of the news -story. We were all reading Kipling in those days,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span> -and Mr. Dunne was so clever in adapting his terse -style to the needs of the daily reportorial life that -when one night a private shot a comrade in the -barracks at Fort Sheridan, and Mr. Dunne was detailed -to report the tragedy, he found it in every -detail so exactly like Kipling’s story “In the Matter -of a Private,” that he was overcome by the -despair of having to write a tale that had already -been told. He resisted the temptation, if there was -any temptation, nobly and wrote the tale with a -bald simplicity that no doubt enhanced its effect. -He had not then begun to report the Philosophy of -Mr. Dooley, though there was a certain Irishman -in Chicago responsive to the name of Colonel -Thomas Jefferson Dolan, whom, in his capacity of -First Ward Democrat, Mr. Dunne frequently interviewed -for his paper without the cramping influences -of a previous visitation on the Colonel, and these -interviews showed much of the color and spirit of -those Dooley articles which later were to make him -famous. He already knew, of course, and frequently -enjoyed communion with the prototype of -Mr. Dooley, Mr. James McGarry, who had a quaint -philosophy of his own which Mr. Dunne one day -rendered in a little article entitled “Mr. McGarry’s -Philosophy.” The familiarity so wounded Mr. -McGarry, however (he was a man of simple dignity -and some sensitiveness), that Mr. Dunne thereafter -adopted another name for the personage -through which he was so long and so brilliantly to -express himself, though it was not until after the -Spanish War that the wide public was to recognize<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span> -the talent which was already so abundantly recognized -by Mr. Dunne’s friends.</p> - -<p>Charlie Seymour did not read as much as some -of his companions; perhaps it was that fact that -gave such an original flavor to what he wrote. His -elder brother, Mr. Horatio W. Seymour, was the -editor of the <i>Herald</i>, a newspaper famed for the -taste and even beauty of its typographical appearance. -It looked somewhat like the New York <i>Sun</i>, -and under Mr. Seymour was as carefully edited. -It was the organ of the Democracy in the northwest, -and I suppose no direct or immediate influence was -more potent in bringing on the wide Democratic -victory in the congressional election of 1890 than the -brilliant editorials on the tariff which Mr. Horatio -Seymour wrote. They were, I remember, one of the -delights of Frank Hurd, and it was through Hurd’s -influence that I was on the staff of that paper, reporting -political events.</p> - -<p>We were all more or less employed in reporting -political events in that stirring year, and were kept -busy in following and recording the sayings of the -orators of both parties. It was characteristic of -Mr. Dunne that after a sober column giving the gist -of a speech by Joseph B. Foraker, then lately governor, -and afterward senator of Ohio, in which he -waved the bloody shirt in the fiery manner which in -those days characterized him, Mr. Dunne should -have concluded his article sententiously: “Then the -audience went out to get the latest news of the battle -of Gettysburg.”</p> - -<p>But it was typical of Charlie Seymour that when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span> -he was detailed to accompany Thomas B. Reed, -Speaker of the Billion Dollar Congress, he should -have been so fascinated by the whiskers of the Illinois -farmers who crowded about the rear platform -of the Speaker’s train, that he devoted half a column -to a description of those adornments which long -was celebrated as a classic in the traditions of Chicago -reporters, to be recalled by them as they -would recall, for instance, certain of the sayings of -the late Joseph Medill.</p> - -<p>Mr. Medill, of course, moved in an element far -above that which was natural to the reporters, and -the figure of the great editor of the <i>Tribune</i> filled -the imagination completely. I used to like his low-tariff -editorials, though they became high-tariff editorials -during national campaigns, the rate of percentage -of protection rising like a thermometer in -the heat of political excitement,—a tendency the -rate invariably reveals the nearer its objective is -approached.</p> - -<p>Mr. Medill, as was well known, was not an admirer -of President Harrison, and there came down -into our world an evidence of the fact in a story -which Mr. Frank Brooks, a political writer on the -<i>Tribune</i>, told us. It was at the time that President -Harrison made one of those speaking tours which, -beginning with President Johnson’s “swing around -the circle,” have grown increasingly familiar to those -of the electorate who observe their presidents and -rush to the railway station to hear them speaking -as they flash by. His managing editor had assigned -Mr. Brooks to go to Galesburg, catch the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span> -President’s special and make the journey with him, -and just as he was giving directions as to the column -or two which Mr. Brooks was to send in daily, Mr. -Medill went shuffling through the editorial room, -bearing a great pile of those foreign exchanges he -was so fond of reading. The managing editor explained -to Mr. Medill the mission he was committing -to Mr. Brooks, and the old editor stood a moment -looking at them, then raised his ear-trumpet and -said in his queer voice:</p> - -<p>“What did you say?”</p> - -<p>“I said, I’d just been telling Mr. Brooks to go -down to Galesburg to-night, catch the President’s -special, and send us a column or so each night of -his speeches.”</p> - -<p>“Uh-huh,” said Mr. Medill, and then he drily -added: “<i>What for?</i>”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="IX">IX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was, of course, for a young correspondent who -hod an eager curiosity about life, an interesting -experience to go on a journey like that, and it was -with delight that, one snowy morning in the late -autumn of that year, I left Chicago to go on a little -trip down through Indiana with James G. Blaine. -He was the secretary of state in President Harrison’s -cabinet, a position in which, as it turned out, -he was unhappy, as most men are apt to be in public -positions, though a sort of cruel and evil fascination -will not let them give up the vain pursuit of -them, vainest perhaps when they are won. When<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> -I reached the station that morning, Mr. Blaine was -already there, walking up and down the platform -arm in arm with his son Emmons. He was a gray -man, dressed in gray clothes, with spats made of the -cloth of his habit, and there was about him an air -of vague sadness, which in his high countenance became -almost a pain, though just then, in the companionship -of the son he loved, there was, for a -little while, the expression of a mild happiness, maybe -a solace. His face was of a grayish, almost luminous -pallor, and his silver hair and beard were in -the same key. William Walter Phelps, then our -minister to Germany, was traveling with him, and -on our way down to South Bend the constant entrance -of plain citizens from the other coaches into -our car filled Mr. Phelps with a kind of wonder. -Commercial travelers, farmers, all sorts and conditions -of men, entered and introduced themselves to -Mr. Blaine, and he sat and talked with them all in -that simplicity which marks the manners, even if it -has departed the spirit of the republic.</p> - -<p>“It is a remarkable sight you are witnessing,” said -Mr. Phelps to us reporters, “a sight you could witness -in no other country in the world. There is the -premier of a great government, and yet the commonest -man may approach him without ceremony, -and talk to him as though he were nobody.”</p> - -<p>Fresh from his life at a foreign court, he was -viewing events from that foreign point of view, perhaps -thinking just then in European sequences, and -since there was such simplicity, it was not hard for -any of us to have conversation with our premier.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span> -Mr. Blaine had just come from Ohio where he had -been speaking in McKinley’s district, and he understood -the political situation so perfectly that he said, -in the frankness of a conversation that was not to be -reported, that McKinley was certain to be defeated; -indeed he foresaw, though it required no very great -vision to do that, the reverse that was to overtake -his party in the congressional elections.</p> - -<p>With my interest in the tariff question, which then -seemed to me so fundamental, I did not lose the -opportunity to ask Mr. Blaine about his reciprocity -project: but after a while the conversation turned -to more personal subjects. When he learned that I -was from Ohio, he asked me suddenly if I could name -the counties that formed the several congressional -districts of the state. I could not, of course, do -that, and I supposed no one in the world could do -it or ever wish to do it; but he could, and with a -naïve pride in the accomplishment he did, and then -astounded me by saying that he could almost match -the feat with any state in the Union.</p> - -<p>It was the only enthusiasm the poor man showed -all that day, and when we reached South Bend, there -was a <i>contretemps</i> that might have afforded Mr. -Phelps further food for reflection on the lack of ceremony -in America. When the premier stepped off -the train into the wet mass of snow that covered the -dirty platform of the ugly little station, there was -nowhere to be seen any evidence of a reception for -the distinguished guest. There was an old hack, or -’bus, one of those rattling, shambling, moth-eaten -vehicles that await the incoming train at every small<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span> -town in our land, with a team of forlorn horses depressed -by the weather or by life, but there was no -committee of eminent citizens, no band, nothing. -The scene was bare and bleak and cold, and the -premier was plainly disgusted.</p> - -<p>He stood there a moment and looked about him -undecided, while Mr. Phelps with sympathetic concern -displayed great willingness to serve, but was as -helpless as his chief. The American sovereigns who -were loafing by the station shed looked on with the -reticent detachment which characterizes the rural -American. And then the train slowly pulled out and -left us, and Mr. Blaine cast at it a glance of longing -and of reproach, as though in its sundering of the -last tie with the world of comfort, he had suffered -the final indignity. There seemed to be no course -other than to take the ’bus, when suddenly a committee -rushed up, out of breath and out of countenance, -and with a chorus of apologies explained -that they had met the wrong train, or gone to another -station, and so bore the premier off in triumph -to dine at some rich man’s house.</p> - -<p>The day seemed to grow worse as it progressed, as -days ill begun have a way of doing, and when the -premier in the afternoon appeared at the meeting -he was to address, his spirits had not improved, and -even if they had, the meeting was one to depress the -spirits of any man. It assembled in a barren hall, -a kind of skating rink, or something of the sort, that -would have served better for a boxing match. The -audience was small, and standing about in the mud -and slush they had “tramped in,” to use our midwestern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span> -phrase, they displayed that bucolic indifference -which can daunt the most exuberant speaker. -It was in no way worthy of the man, and Mr. Blaine -spoke with evident difficulty, and so wholly lacked -spirit and enthusiasm that it was impossible for -him to warm up to his subject. The speech was of -that perfunctory sort which such an atmosphere -compels, one of those speeches the speaker drags -out, a word at a time, and is glad to be done with, -and Mr. Blaine bore with his fates a little while, and -then almost abruptly closed. He spoke on the tariff -issue, and in defense of the McKinley Bill, and in -marshaling the evidences of our glory and prosperity, -all of which he attributed to the direct influence -of the protective tariff system, he mentioned -the number of miles of railroad that had been built, -and even the increase in the nation’s population! -The speech and the occasion afforded an opportunity -to a newspaper of the opposition, which in -those days of silly partizanship, was not to be overlooked. -I went back to the little hotel and wrote -my story, and since I had all the while in my mind -not only partizan advantage, but the smiles that -would break out on the countenances of Charlie -Seymour and Peter Dunne and the other boys gathered -in the Whitechapel Club I did not minimise -the effect of all those babies who had come to life -as a result of the protective tariff, nor all those -ironical difficulties the day had heaped upon the -great man. It was not, perhaps, quite fair, nor quite -nice, but it was as fair and as nice as newspaper ethics -and political etiquette—if there are such things—require,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span> -and Mr. Blaine himself most have had -some consciousness of his partial failure, some dissatisfaction -with his effort, for I was just about -to put my story on the wire at six o’clock when he -appeared, with his rich host, and asked for me. I -talked to him through the little wicket of the telegraph -office, and the conversation began inauspiciously -by the rich man’s peremptorily commanding -me to let him see my stuff; he wished, he said, to -“look it over”! I was not as patient with his presumption -then as I think I could be now, for I had -not learned that it was the factory system that produces -such types, men who bully the women at home -and the women and clerks and operatives in their -shops, and I denied him the right, of course. He -became very angry, and blustered through the little -window, while the operator, an old telegrapher I had -known in Toledo, sat behind me waiting to send the -story clicking into Chicago on <i>The Herald’s</i> wire. -After the rich man had exhausted himself, Mr. -Blaine took his place at the window and in a mild -and calm manner, asked me for my copy, saying -that he was not well, and that he had made some -slips in his speech which he did not care to have go -to the country. It was those unfortunate or fortunate -babies of the protective tariff system, and he -said that the correspondent of a press association -had agreed to make the excisions if I would do so, -and he would consider it a favor if I would oblige -him.</p> - -<p>The charm of his manner had been on me all that -day, and I had been feeling sorry for him all day,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span> -too, and I was sorrier for him then than ever, and -half ashamed of some of the things I had written, but -I explained to him that I had been sent by my paper -in the hope that he might say something to the disadvantage -of his own cause, and that my duty was -to report, at least, what he had said. It was one of -the hardest “noes” I ever had to say, and at last as -he turned away, I regretted, perhaps more than -he, and certainly more than he ever knew, that I -could not let him revise his speech—since that is -what most of us desire to do with most of our -speeches.</p> - -<p>When that campaign ended in the overthrow of -the Republican majority in Congress, and I was sent -to interview Ben Butterworth on the result, he said, -in his humorous way: “The Lord gave, and the -Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the -Lord.” He was not altogether cast down by the result; -in his place in Congress as a representative -from a Cincinnati district he had risen to denounce -the tariff, and so had his consolation. To me it -seemed as if the people had at last entered the promised -land, that that was the day the Lord had made -for his people, but Mr. Butterworth could point out -that our government was not so democratic as the -British government, for instance, since it was not so -responsive to the people’s will. Over there, of -course, after such a reverse the government would -have retired, and a new one would have been formed, -but here the existing administration would remain in -power two years longer, and then, even if it lost in -the presidential election over a year must elapse before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span> -a new Congress would convene, so that the millennium -was postponed a good three years at least.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">X</h2> -</div> - - -<p>However, there were other interests and other delights -with which to occupy one’s self meanwhile, not -the least of which was Mr. Butterworth himself. -He was then out of Congress and in Chicago as Solicitor -General of the World’s Columbian Exposition, -for which Chicago was preparing. For a while -I was relieved from writing about politics, and assigned -to the World’s Fair, and there were so many -distinguished men from all over the nation associated -in that enterprise that it was very much like politics -in its superficial aspects. There was, for instance, -the World’s Columbian Commission, a body created -under the authority of Congress, composed of two -commissioners from each state, appointed by its -governor, and that body exactly the size of the -senate was like it in personnel and character. The -witty Thomas E. Palmer of Michigan was its president, -and there were among its membership such -men as Judge Lindsay, later senator from Kentucky, -Judge Harris of Virginia, who looked like George -Washington, and many other delightful and pungent -characters. But no personality among them all was -more interesting than Colonel James A. McKenzie, -Judge Lindsay’s colleague from Kentucky. He was -tall and spare of frame, and his long moustache -and goatee, and the great black slouch hat he wore<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span> -made him in appearance the typical southerner of -the popular imagination. He was indeed the typical -southerner by every right and tradition, by birth, -by his services in the Confederate army, by his -stately courtesy, by his love of sentiment and the -picturesque, by his wit and humor and eloquence, -and his fondness for phrases. His humor sparkled in -his kind blue eyes, and it overflowed in that brilliant -conversation with which he delighted everyone -about him; he could entertain you by the hour with -his comments on all phases of that life in which he -found such zest. He had been known as “Quinine -Jim,” because as congressman he had secured the -reduction or the abolition of the duty on that drug, -so indispensable in malarial lands. He was fond of -striking phrases; he it was who had referred to -Blaine as a Florentine mosaic; and his reference to -Mrs. Cleveland as “the uncrowned queen of America” -had delighted the Democratic convention at St. -Louis which renominated her husband for the presidency. -And again at Chicago, on that memorable -night of oratory in 1892 in seconding the nomination -of Cleveland on behalf of Kentucky he stood on a -chair and referred to his state as the commonwealth -“in which, thank God, the damned lie is the first -lick, where the women are so beautiful that the -aurora borealis blushes with shame, where the -whiskey is so good as to make intoxication a virtue, -and the horses so fleet that lightning in comparison -is but a puling paralytic.”</p> - -<p>During one of many pleasant afternoons in the -old Grand Pacific Hotel he began to tell us something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span> -about the chronic office holders to be found in -the capital of his state, as in most states, and said: -“If God in a moment of enthusiasm should see fit -to snatch them to His bosom I should regard it as a -dispensation of divine providence in which I could -acquiesce with a fervor that would be turbulent and -even riotous.” It was in this stream of exaggeration -and hyperbole that he talked all the time, but with -the coming of the winter of that year my opportunities -of listening to him were cut off. I was sent to -Springfield to report the sessions of the legislature. -In the spring a bill was under discussion for the -appropriation of a large sum in aid of the World’s -Fair, and when the usual opposition developed -among those country members who have so long -governed our cities in dislike and distrust of the -people in them, a delegation came down from Chicago -to lobby for the measure. It was not long -until it was evident that they were not making -much headway; the difference, the distinction in -their dress and manner, their somewhat too lofty -style were only making matters worse. I took it -upon myself to telegraph to James W. Scott, the -publisher of <i>The Herald</i>, apprising him of the situation, -and suggesting that Colonel McKenzie be sent -down to reënforce them. I felt that he would perhaps -understand the country members better because -he understood humanity better, and besides, I -wished to see him again and hear his stories and -funny sayings. He came, and after he had associated -with the members a day or so, and they had -seen him draw Kentucky “twist” from the deep<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> -pocket of the long tails of his coat, and on one or -two occasions had watched him gently pinch into a -julep the tender sprigs of mint the spring had -brought to Springfield, the appropriation for some -reason was made. While he was there he said he -wished to visit the tomb of Lincoln, and it was with -pride that I got an open carriage and drove him, on -an incomparable morning in June, out to Oak Ridge -cemetery. He was in a solemn mood that morning; -the visit had a meaning for him; he had fought on -the other side in the great war, but he had a better -conception of the character of the noble martyr than -many a northerner, especially of the day when that -tomb was built, certainly a nobler conception of -that lofty character than is expressed in Mead’s -cruel war groups—as though Lincoln had been -merely some shoulder-strapped murderer of his fellow -men! The Colonel had never been there before, -and it was an occasion for him, and for me, too, -though every time I went there it was for me an occasion, -as my sojourn in Springfield was an opportunity, -to induce those who had known Lincoln to -talk about him.</p> - -<p>The tomb has a chamber in its base where there -were stored a number of things; the place, indeed, -was a sort of cheap museum, and you paid to enter -there and listen to an aged custodian lecture on the -“relics,” and thrill the gaping onlooker with the -details of the attempt to steal the body, and buy a -book about it, if you were morbid and silly enough. -The custodian began his lecture in that chamber, -and then led you out into the sunlight again, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span> -up on the base of the monument, and showed you the -bronze fighters, and at last, took you down into the -crypt, on the brow of the little down that overlooks -the cemetery.</p> - -<p>There at last Colonel McKenzie stood beside the -sarcophagus and after a while the custodian came -to the end of his rigmarole, and, by some mercy, was -still. And I stood aside and looked at the old Confederate -officer, standing there in that cool entrance, -beside the very tomb of Lincoln. He stood with -his arms folded on his breast, his tall form -slightly bent, his big hat in his hand, and his -white head bowed; he stood there a long time, in -the perfect silence of that June morning, with -thoughts, I suppose, that might have made an -epic.</p> - -<p>When at last he turned away and went around to -the front of the monument, and we were about to -enter our carriage, he turned, and still uncovered, -over the little gate in the low fence that enclosed -the spot, he paused and gave his hand to the old -custodian, and said:</p> - -<p>“Colonel, I wish to express to you my appreciation -of the privilege I have had this morning of -paying my respects at the shrine of the greatest -American that ever lived.”</p> - -<p>He said it solemnly and sincerely, and then, still -holding the delighted old fellow’s hand, he went on -in profound gravity:</p> - -<p>“And I cannot go away without expressing my -sense of satisfaction in the eloquent oration you have -delivered on this occasion. I was particularly impressed,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span> -sir, by its evident lack of previous thought -and preparation.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>That was the legislature which elected John M. -Palmer to the United States Senate from Illinois. -The election was accomplished only after a memorable -deadlock of two months in which the Democrats -of the general assembly stood so nobly, shoulder to -shoulder, that they were called “The Immortal 101.” -When they were finally reënforced by the votes of -two members elected as representatives of the Farmers’ -Alliance, and elected their man, they had a gold -medal struck to commemorate their own heroism. -They were not, perhaps, exactly immortal, but they -did stand for their principles so stanchly that when -they came to celebrate their victory, some of their -orators compared them to those other immortals who -held Thermopylæ.</p> - -<p>Their principle was the popular election of United -States senators, and they had a fine exemplar of -democracy in their candidate. He had been nominated -by a state convention, as had Lincoln, whom -General Palmer had known intimately and had supported -both for senator and president. He was the -last of those great figures of Illinois whom the times -immediately preceding the Civil War had so abundantly -brought forth. He had commanded an army -corps, he had been governor of his state, and in -1872 a presidential possibility in the Republican -party. But he had turned to the Democrats, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span> -after he became their senator, the first Illinois had -known since Douglas, he became a presidential possibility -in the Democratic party; that was in 1892, -and whatever chances he had he destroyed himself -by coming on from Washington and declaring for -Grover Cleveland.</p> - -<p>Four years later he was nominated for the presidency -by the conservative faction of his party. He -told me, when I was finishing my law studies under -him, that he had never lost anything politically by -bolting any of the several parties he had been in, but -had usually gained in self respect by doing so; and -if to the politician his whole career presented inconsistencies, -to the man of principle he must seem -wholly consistent and sincere. Certain it is that he -followed that inward spirit which alone can guide a -man through the perplexities of life, and so the principle -with him came ever before the party.</p> - -<p>He was a simple man with simple tastes, and his -very simplicity was an element of that dignity which -seemed to belong to other times than ours. The -familiar figure of him along the quiet streets of -Springfield was pleasing to men and to children -alike; he would go along erectly and slowly under -his great broad hat, a striking figure with his plentiful -white hair, his closely trimmed chin whiskers, -the broad, smoothly shaven upper lip distinguishing a -countenance that was of a type associated with the -earlier ideals of the republic, and the market basket -he carried on his arm helped this effect. At home -he was delightful; he had a viol, and used to play it, -if there were not too many about to hear him, and if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span> -he were alone, sing a few staves of old songs, like -“Darling Nelly Gray,” and “Rosie Lee, Courting -Down in Tennessee,” and some of the old tunes he -had learned in Kentucky as a boy. He liked poetry, -if it were not of the introspective modern mood, and -while I have heard of such extraordinary characters, -I never believed the stories of their endurance, until -I was able to discover in him one man who actually -did read Sir Walter Scott’s novels through every -year. For the most part he had some member of his -family read them to him, and he found in them the -naïve pleasure of a child. I used to think I would -remember the things he was always saying, and the -stories he was always telling about Lincoln or Douglas -or Grant, but I never could keep note-books and -the more imposing sayings have departed. Yet -there flashes before the memory with the detail of a -cinematograph that scene of a winter’s evening when -I entered the big living-room in his home and there -found him with his wife before the great open fire. -She was reading aloud to him from “Ivanhoe.”</p> - -<p>“Come in, Mr. Brand,” he always addressed me -by prefixing “Mr.” to my Christian name. “Come -in,” he called in his hearty voice. “We are just -storming a castle.”</p> - -<p>He lived on to the century’s end, with a sort of -gusto in life that never failed, I think, until that -day when he attended the funeral of the last of his -old contemporaries, General John M. McClernand, -that fierce old warrior who had quarreled with Grant -and lived on in Springfield until he could fight no -more with anyone. Senator Palmer came home from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span> -his funeral amused by the fact that McClernand had -been buried in the full uniform of a major-general, -which he had not worn, I suppose, since Vicksburg. -When some member of Senator Palmer’s household -asked him if he should like to be buried in his uniform, -he shook his head against it, but added:</p> - -<p>“It was all right for Mac; it was like him.”</p> - -<p>But the end was in his thoughts; Oglesby was -gone, and now McClernand as the last of the men -with whom he had fought in the great crisis, and -he went, pretty soon after that, himself. He had -participated in two great revolutionary epochs of -his nation, going through the one and penetrating -though not so far into the second, a long span of -life and experience.</p> - -<p>It was perhaps natural that he should not have -divined the implications of the second phase as -clearly as he did those of the first; and though he -had helped to inaugurate the new movement, the latest -urge toward democracy in this land, he could -not go so far. He was young in ’56 and old in ’96, -and as we grow old we grow conservative, whether -we would or not, and much, I suppose, in the same -way.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Senator Palmer’s victory in 1891, however, had -raised the hopes of the Illinois Democracy for 1892, -and it was early in that year that I came to know -one of the most daring pioneers of the neo-democratic<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span> -movement in America, and the most courageous -spirit of our times.</p> - -<p>It was on a cold raw morning that I met Joseph -P. Mahony, then a Democratic member of the State -Senate, who said:</p> - -<p>“Come with me and I’ll introduce you to the next -governor of Illinois.”</p> - -<p>It was the time of year when one was meeting -the next governor of Illinois in most of the hotel -corridors, or men who were trying to look like potential -governors of Illinois, so that such a remark -was not to be taken too literally; but I went, and -after ascending to an upper floor of a narrow little -building in Adams Street, we entered a suite of law -offices, and there in a very much crowded, a very -much littered and a rather dingy little private room, -at an odd little walnut desk, sat John P. Altgeld.</p> - -<p>The figure was not prepossessing; he wore his -hair close-clipped in ultimate surrender to an obstinate -cowlick; his beard was closely trimmed, too, and -altogether the countenance was one made for the -hands of the cartoonists, who in the brutal fury that -was so soon to blaze upon him and to continue to -blaze until it had consumed him quite, could easily -contort the features to the various purposes of an -ugly partizanship; they gave it a peculiarly sinister -quality, and it is one of the countless ironies of life -that a face, sad with all the utter woe of humanity, -should have become for a season, and in some minds -remained forever, the type and symbol of all that is -most abhorrent. There was a peculiar pallor in the -countenance, and the face was such a blank mask of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span> -suffering and despair that, had it not been for -the high intelligence that shone from his eyes, it must -have impressed many as altogether lacking in expression. -Certainly it seldom or never expressed enthusiasm, -or joy, or humor, though he had humor of a -certain mordant kind, as many a political opponent -was to know.</p> - -<p>He had been a judge of the Circuit Court, and -was known by his occasional addresses, his interviews -and articles, as a publicist of radical and -humanitarian tendencies. He was known especially -to the laboring classes and to the poor, who, by -that acute sympathy they possess, divined in him -a friend, and in the circles of sociological workers -and students, then so small and obscure as to make -their views esoteric, he was recognized as one who -understood and sympathized with their tendencies -and ideals. He was accounted in those days a -wealthy man,—he was just then building one of those -tall and ugly structures of steel called “sky-scrapers,”—and -now that he was spoken of for governor -this fact made him seem “available” to the politicians. -Also he had a German name, another asset in -Illinois just then, when Germans all over the state -felt themselves outraged by legislation concerning -the “little red school-house,” which the Republicans -had enacted when they were in full power in the -state.</p> - -<p>But my paper did not share this enthusiasm about -him; it happened to be owned by John R. Walsh, and -between Walsh and Altgeld there was a feud, a feud -that cost Altgeld his fortune, and lasted until the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> -day that death found him poor and crushed by all -the tragedy which a closer observer, one with a -keener prescience of destiny than I, might have read -in his face from the first.</p> - -<p>The feeling of the paper, if one may so personalize -a corporation as to endow it with emotion, was not -corrected by his nomination, and <i>The Herald</i> had -little to say of him, and what it did say was given out -in the perfunctory tone of a party organ. But as -the summer wore on, and I was able to report to my -editors that all the signs pointed to Altgeld’s election, -I was permitted to write an article in which I -tried to describe his personality and to give some -impression of the able campaign he was making. -Horace Taylor drew some pictures to illustrate it, -and I had the satisfaction of knowing that it gave -Altgeld pleasure, while at the same time to me at -least it revealed for an instant the humanness of the -man.</p> - -<p>He sent for me—he was then in offices in his new -sky-scraper—and asked if I could procure for him -Horace Taylor’s pictures; he hesitated a moment, -and then, as though it were a weakness his Spartan -nature was reluctant to reveal, he told me that he -intended to have my article republished in a newspaper -in Mansfield, Ohio, the town whence he had -come, where he had taught school, and where he -had met the gracious lady who was his wife. He -talked for a while that afternoon about his youth, -about his poverty and his struggles, and then suddenly -lapsed into a silence, with his eyes fastened -on me. I wondered what he was looking at; his gaze<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span> -was disconcerting, and it made me self-conscious and -uneasy, till he said:</p> - -<p>“Where could one get a cravat like the one you -have on?”</p> - -<p>It was, I remember—because of the odd incident—an -English scarf of blue, quite new. I had tried to -knot it as Ben Cable of the Democratic National -Committee knotted his, and it seemed that such a -little thing should not be wanting to the happiness -of a man who, by all the outward standards, had so -much to gratify him as Altgeld had, and I said—with -some embarrassment, and some doubt as to the -taste I was exhibiting—“Why, you may have this -one.”</p> - -<p>In a moment his face changed, the mask fell, and -he shook his head and said: “No, it would not look -like that on me.”</p> - -<p>After his election it was suggested to me that I -might become his secretary, but I declined; in my -travels over the state as a political correspondent I -was always meeting aged men, seemingly quite respectable -and worthy and entirely well meaning, who -were introduced not so much by name as such -and such a former governor’s private secretary; -though like the moor which Browning crossed, they -had</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent">... names of their own,</div> -<div class="verse">And a certain use in the world, no doubt.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>But I did take a position in the office of the secretary -of state that offered the opportunity I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span> -been longing for; I wished to finish my law studies, -and, deeper down than any ambition for the bar, I -was nourishing a desire to write, or if it does not -seem too pretentious, an ambition in literature; and -neither of these aims could well be accomplished, -say from midnight on, after working all day on a -morning newspaper.</p> - -<p>It was a pleasant change. Springfield was lovely -in the spring, which came to it earlier than it visited -Chicago, and it was a relief to escape the horrid -atmosphere of a great brutal city which as a reporter -it had seemed my fate to behold for the most -part at night. There was a sense of spaciousness in -the green avenues of the quiet town, and there was -pleasant society, and better perhaps than all there -were two big libraries in the Capitol, the law library -of the Supreme Court and the state library; and -after the noisy legislature had adjourned a peace -fell on the great, cool stone pile that was almost -academic.</p> - -<p>Twice or thrice a day Governor Altgeld was to be -seen passing through its vast corridors, his head -bent thoughtfully, rapt afar from the things about -him in those dreams of social amelioration which had -visited him so much earlier than they came to most -of his contemporaries. He had read much, and -during his residence there the executive mansion -had the atmosphere of intellectual culture. Whenever -I went over there, which I did now and then with -his secretary for luncheon or for an evening at cards, -our talk was almost always of books.</p> - -<p>We were all reading George Meredith in those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span> -days, and Meredith’s greater contemporary, Thomas -Hardy. “Tess” had just appeared, and it would -be about that time that “Jude” was running as a -serial in <i>Harper’s Magazine</i>, though with many elisions -and under its tentative titles of “The Simpleton” -and “Hearts Insurgent”; and we all fell completely -under a fascination which has never failed of -its weird and mysterious charm, so that I have read -all his works, down to his latest poems, over and -over again. Hardy is, perhaps, the greatest intelligence -on our planet now that Tolstoy, from whom -he so vastly differed, is gone, and Altgeld’s whole -career might have served him, had he ever chosen to -write of those experiences that are less implicit in -human nature, and more explicit in the superficial -aspects of public careers, as an example of his own -pagan theory of the contrariety of human affairs -and the spite of the Ironic Spirits.</p> - -<p>I was reading, too, the novels of Mr. William -Dean Howells, as I always have been whenever there -was a moment to spare, and it was with a shock of -peculiar delight and a sense of corroboration almost -authoritative that I learned that Mr. Howells also -had given voice to those very same profound and -troubling convictions which Charlie R—— had set -me on the track of two years before.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was not in any one of Mr. Howells’s novels or -essays, except inferentially, that I learned this, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span> -among some musty documents the worms were eating -up away down in the foundations of the State -House.</p> - -<p>My work in the office of the secretary of state -involved the care of the state’s archives. The oldest -of these were stored in a vault in the cellar of the -huge pile, and the discovery had just been made -that some kind of insect, which the state entomologist -knew all about, was riddling those records with -little holes,—piercing them through and through. -In consequence a new vault was prepared, and steel -filing cases were set up in it, and the records removed -to this safer sanctuary.</p> - -<p>It was a tedious and stupid task, until we came -one day to file what were called the papers in the -anarchist case. Officially they related to the application -for the commutation of the sentences of the -four men, Spies, Engel, Fischer, and Parsons, who -had been hanged, and for the pardon of the three -who were then confined in the penitentiary at Joliet, -Fielden and Schwab for life, and old Oscar Neebe -for fifteen years. Fielden and Schwab had been sentenced -to death with the four who had been killed, -but Governor Oglesby had commuted their sentences -to imprisonment for life; Neebe’s original sentence -had been for the fifteen years he was then serving. -The papers consisted of communications to the governor, -great petitions, and letters and telegrams, -many sent in mercy, and some in the spirit of reason, -asking for clemency, many in a wild hysteria of fear, -and the hideous hate that is born of fear, begging -the governor to let “justice” take its course.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>There were the names of many prominent men -and women signed to these communications; among -them was a request signed by many authors in England -requesting clemency, but there was no appeal -stronger, and no protest braver, than that in the -letter which Mr. Howells had written to a New -York newspaper analyzing the case and showing the -amazing injustice of the whole proceeding. Mr. -Howells had first gone, so he told me in after years, -to the aged poet Whittier, whose gentle philosophy -might have moved him to a mood against that public -wrong, and then to George William Curtis, but they -had advised him to write the protest himself, and he -had done so, and he had done it better and more -bravely than either of them could have done out of -the great conscience and the great heart that have -always been on the side of the weak and the oppressed, -with a mercy which when it is practised by -mankind is always so much nearer the right and the -divine than our crude and generally cruel attempts -at justice can ever be.</p> - -<p>But all these prayers had fallen on official ears -that—to use a grotesque figure—were so closely -pressed to the ground that they could not hear; and -there was nothing to do, since they were so many -and so bulky that no latest-improved and patented -steel filing-case could hold them, but to have a big -box made and lock them up in that for all time, forgotten, -like so many other records of injustice, out -of the minds of men.</p> - -<p>But not entirely; injustice was never for long out -of the mind of John P. Altgeld, and during all those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span> -first months of his administration he had been brooding -over this notable instance of injustice, and he -had come to his decision. He knew the cost to him; -he had just come to the governorship of his state, -and to the leadership of his party, after its thirty -years of defeat, and he realized what powerful interests -would be frightened and offended if he were -to turn three forgotten men out of prison; he understood -how partizanship would turn the action to its -advantage.</p> - -<p>It mattered not that most of the thoughtful men -in Illinois would tell you that the “anarchists” had -been improperly convicted, that they were not only -entirely innocent of the murder of which they had -been accused, but were not even anarchists; it was -simply that the mob had convicted them in one of -the strangest frenzies of fear that ever distracted a -whole community, a case which all the psychologists -of all the universities in the world might have tried, -without getting at the truth of it—much less a jury -in a criminal court.</p> - -<p>And so, one morning in June, very early, I was -called to the governor’s office, and told to make out -pardons for Fielden, Neebe, and Schwab. “And do -it yourself,” said the governor’s secretary, “and -don’t say anything about it to anybody.”</p> - -<p>I cannot tell in what surprise, in what a haze, or -with what emotions I went about that task. I got -the blanks and the records, and, before the executive -clerk, whose work it was, had come down, I -made out those three pardons, in the largest, roundest -hand I could command, impressed them with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span> -Great Seal of State, had the secretary of state sign -them, and took them over to the governor’s office. -I was admitted to his private room, and there he -sat, at his great flat desk. The only other person in -the room was Dreier, a Chicago banker, who had -never wearied, it seems, in his efforts to have -those men pardoned. He was standing, and was -very nervous; the moment evidently meant much to -him. The Governor took the big sheets of imitation -parchment, glanced over them, signed his name to -each, laid down the pen, and handed the papers -across the table to Dreier. The banker took them, -and began to say something. But he only got as -far as——</p> - -<p>“Governor, I hardly”—when he broke down and -wept. Altgeld made an impatient gesture; he was -gazing out of the window in silence, on the elm-trees -in the yard. He took out his watch, told Dreier he -would miss his train—Dreier was to take the Alton -to Joliet, deliver the pardons to the men in person, -and go on into Chicago with them that night—and -Dreier nervously rolled up the pardons, took up a -little valise, shook hands, and was gone.</p> - -<p>On the table was a high pile of proofs of the document -in which Governor Altgeld gave the reasons for -his action. It was an able paper; one might well -rank it among state papers, and I suppose no one -now, in these days, when so many of Altgeld’s democratic -theories are popular, would deny that his -grounds were just and reasonable, or that he had -done what he could to right a great wrong; though -he would regret that so great a soul should have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> -permitted itself to mar the document by expressions -of hatred of the judge who tried the case. But perhaps -it is not so easy to be calm and impersonal in -the midst of the moving event, as it is given to others -to be long afterward.</p> - -<p>But whatever feelings he may have had, he was -calm and serene ever after. I saw him as I was -walking down to the Capitol the next morning. It -was another of those June days which now and then -are so perfect on the prairies. The Governor was -riding his horse—he was a gallant horseman—and -he bowed and smiled that faint, wan smile of his, and -drew up to the curb a moment. There was, of -course, but one subject then, and I said:</p> - -<p>“Well, the storm will break now.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” he replied, with a not wholly convincing -air of throwing off a care, “I was prepared -for that. It was merely doing right.”</p> - -<p>I said something to him then to express my satisfaction -in the great deed that was to be so wilfully, -recklessly, and cruelly misunderstood. I did not say -all I might have said, for I felt that my opinions -could mean so little to him. I have wished since that -I had said more,—said something, if that might have -been my good fortune, that could perhaps have -made a great burden a little easier for that brave -and tortured soul. But he rode away with that wan, -persistent smile. And the storm did break, and the -abuse it rained upon him broke his heart; but I -never again heard him mention the anarchist case.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The newspapers were so extravagant in their -abuse of Governor Altgeld for his pardon of the -anarchists that one not knowing the facts might have -received the impression that the Governor had already -pardoned most of the prisoners in the penitentiary, -and would presently pardon those that -remained, provided the crimes they had committed, -or were said to have committed, had been -heinous enough. The fact was that he issued no -more pardons, proportionately at least, than the -governors who preceded him, since notwithstanding -the incessant grinding of society’s machinery -of vengeance the populations of prisons grow -with the populations outside of them.</p> - -<p>But partizanship was intense in those days; and -the fact that Governor Altgeld was responsible for -such a hegira from the Capitol at Springfield as -Colonel McKenzie had longed to behold in the Capitol -at Frankfort exacerbated the bitter feeling. The -sentiment thus created, however, did increase the -hopes of convicts, and the Governor was continually -importuned by their friends—those of them that had -friends, which was apt to be a pitifully small percentage -of the whole number—to give them back -their liberty. A few weeks after the pardons had -been issued to the anarchists, George Brennan of -Braidwood, then a clerk in the State House, told me -a moving story of a young man of his acquaintance, -who was then confined in the penitentiary at Joliet.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span> -The young man was dying of tuberculosis, and his -mother, having no other hope than that he might be -released to die at home, had made her appeal to -Brennan, and he had seen to the filing of an application -in due form, and now he asked me if I would not -call the Governor’s attention to it. I got out the -great blue envelope containing the thin papers in the -case—they were as few as the young man’s friends—and -took them over to the Governor, but no sooner -had I laid them on his desk and made the first hesitating -and tentative approach to the subject, than I -divined the moment to be wholly inauspicious. The -Governor did not even look at the papers, he did not -even touch the big blue linen envelope, but shook -his head and said:</p> - -<p>“No, no, I will not pardon any more. The people -are opposed to it; they do not believe in mercy; they -love revenge; they want the prisoners punished to -the bitterest extremity.”</p> - -<p>I did not then know how right he was in his cynical -generalization, though I did know that his decision -was so far from his own heart that it was no decision -at all, but merely the natural human reaction against -all the venom that had been voided upon him, and I -went away then, and told Brennan that we must wait -until the Governor was in another mood.</p> - -<p>Three or four days afterward I met the Governor -one morning as he was passing through the rotunda -of the State House, his head bent in habitual abstraction, -and seeing me in what seemed always some -subconscious way he stopped and said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, by the way: that pardon case you spoke of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span> -the other morning—I was somewhat hasty I fear, -and out of humor. If you’ll get the papers I’ll see -what can be done.”</p> - -<p>I knew of course what could be done, and knew -then that it would be done, and I made haste to get -the papers, which had been kept on my desk awaiting -that propitious season which I had the faith to -feel would come sooner or later, though I had not -expected it to come quite so soon as that. I already -anticipated the gladness that would light up Brennan’s -good Irish face when I handed him the pardon -for his friend, and I could dramatize the scene in -that miner’s cottage in Braidwood when the pardoned -boy flew to his mother’s arms. I intended to -say nothing then to Brennan, however, but to wait -until the pardon, signed and sealed, could be delivered -into his hands, but as I was going across the -hall to the Governor’s chambers I encountered Brennan, -and then of course could not hold back the good -news. And so I told him, looking into his blue eyes -to behold the first ripple of the smile I expected to -see spread over his face; but there was no smile. -He regarded me quite soberly, shook his head, and -said:</p> - -<p>“It’s too late now.”</p> - -<p>And he drew from his pocket a telegram, and, -without any need to read it, said:</p> - -<p>“He died last night.”</p> - -<p>I took the papers back and had them filed away -among those cases that had been finally disposed of, -though that formality could not dispose of the case -for me. The Governor was waiting for the papers,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span> -and at last when the morning had almost worn away -I went over to his chambers to add another fardel -to that heavy load which I had thought it was to be -my lot that day to see lightened in the doing of an -act of grace and pity. I told him as he sat alone -at his desk, and the shade of sorrow deepened a -moment on his pale face; but he said nothing, and -I was glad to go.</p> - -<p>The poor little tragedy had its impressions for -me, and it was not long until I thought I saw in it -the motive of a story, which at once I began to write. -The theme was the embarrassment which a governor’s -conscience created for him because during a -critical campaign he knew it to be his duty to pardon -a notorious convict,—and I invented the situations -and expedients to bear the tale along to that thrilling -climax in which the governor was delivered out -of his difficulty by the most opportune death of the -convict, whom a higher hand could dramatically be -said to have pardoned. I worked very hard on the -story, and thought it pretty fine, and I sent it away -at last to an eastern magazine. And then I waited, -and at length a letter came saying that the story -was well enough thought of in that editorial room -to hold it until the editor-in-chief should return -from Europe and hand down a final decision. I -waited for weeks, and then one morning there on my -desk was an envelope, ominous in its bigness; it was -one of those letters you do not have to open in order -to read them, because you know what they say; I -knew my manuscript had come back. But when I -opened the package, instead of the familiar slip of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span> -rejection, there was a letter; the editor liked the -story, saw much in it, he said, but felt—and quite -rightly I am sure—that its ending, with the convict -dying in the very nick of time to save the governor -from his embarrassment, was an evasion of the whole -moral issue; besides, the conclusion was too melodramatic,—that -was the word he used,—and would I -change it?</p> - -<p>The day after all was bright and cheerful; I -remember it well, the sun lying on the State House -lawns, their green dotted with the gold of dandelions, -and the trees twisting their leaves almost rapturously -in a sparkling air we did not often breathe -on those humid prairies. And—though this has -nothing whatever to do with the case, and enters it -only as one of those incidents that linger in the -memory—William Jennings Bryan was there that -day, calling on the Governor and the Secretary of -State. He was then a young congressman from -Nebraska, and he made a speech; but I was interested -in the story far more than in politics or any -speech about it, even the brilliant speech of a man -who so soon, and with such remarkable <i>élan</i>, was to -charge across the country on the hosts of privilege.</p> - -<p>And I changed the story; I made that poor harried -governor drain his bitter cup of duty to the lees, -and gave the story an ending so remorselessly logical, -so true to the facts and fates of human experience, -that it might have been as depressing as one of -Hardy’s “Little Ironies”—could it have resembled -them in any other way, which of course it could not, -unless it were in that imitation with which the last<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span> -author I had been reading was pretty sure though -all unconsciously to be flattered. I changed the -story, and sent the MS. back to the waiting editor; -and it was returned as the string snaps back to the -bow, with a letter that showed plainly that his interest -in the tale had all evaporated. He had no regrets, -it appeared, save one perhaps, since he concluded -his letter by saying:</p> - -<p>“Besides, you have destroyed the fine dramatic -ending which the story possessed in its first draft.”</p> - -<p>The experience uprooted another of society’s oak-trees -for me, and it has continued to lie there, with -the roots of its infallibility withering whitely in the -air, though humanity still somehow continues to arrange -itself about the institution as best it can. This -process of uprooting, I suppose, goes on in life to the -very end; but it is wholesome after all, since life -grows somehow easier after one has learned that -human beings are all pretty human and pretty much -alike in their humanness, and the great service of -literature to mankind has been, and more and more -will be, I hope, to teach human beings this salutary -and consoling lesson.</p> - -<p>But, in no way despairing, I kept the manuscript -by me, and when I was not trying to write other -stories I was retouching it, until in the end its fate -was almost that of the portrait which the artist in -one of Balzac’s stories kept on trying to improve -until it was but a meaningless scumble of gray, with -no likeness to anything in this universe. Its fate -was not quite that bad, however, since it made for me -a friend.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The incident, like that on which the story itself -was founded, occurred in the course of another effort -to induce the Governor to save a poor wretch from -the gallows. The autumn preceding, just when the -World’s Fair at Chicago was at its apogee, a half-crazed -boy had assassinated Carter Harrison, the old -mayor of that city, and had been promptly tried and -condemned to death. The time for the execution of -the sentence drew on, and two or three days before -the black event I had a telegram from Peter Dunne -and other newspaper friends in Chicago asking me to -urge the governor, or the acting governor as it -happened at that time to be, to commute the sentence -to one of imprisonment for life. The boy, so -the telegrams said, was clearly insane, and had been -at the time of his crazy and desperate deed; his case -had not been presented with the skill that might have -saved him, or at least might have saved another in -such a plight; there had been the customary hue and -cry, the most cherished process of the English law, -“and,” Dunne concluded, “do get Joe Gill to let -him off.”</p> - -<p>Joe Gill was Joseph B. Gill, the young Lieutenant-Governor -of the state, and because Governor Altgeld -was just then out of the state he was on the -bridge as acting governor. Gill had been one of the -Immortal 101, and as a representative had made a -record in support of certain humane measures in -behalf of the miners of the state. The newspaper<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> -correspondents had had pleasure in celebrating him -and his work in their despatches, and because of his -popularity among the miners, to say nothing of his -popularity among the newspaper men, he had been -nominated for lieutenant-governor on the ticket -with Altgeld. There was in our relations a <i>camaraderie</i> -which put any thought of presumption out of -the question; besides, I was always so much opposed -to the killing of human beings, especially to that -peculiarly horrible form of killing which the state -deliberately and in cold blood commits under the -euphemism of “capital punishment,” that I was always -ready to ask any governor to commute a sentence -of death that had been pronounced against -anybody; so that it seemed a simple matter to -ask Joe Gill, himself the heart of kindness, to -save the life of this boy whose soul had wandered -so desperately astray in the clouds which darkened -it.</p> - -<p>Early the next morning—the telegrams had come -at night—I went over to the governor’s office, and -the governor’s private secretary told me that Lieutenant-Governor -Gill had not yet appeared, and as a -good secretary, anxious to protect his chief, he -asked:</p> - -<p>“What do you want to see him about?”</p> - -<p>“This Prendergast they’re going to hang in Chicago -next Friday.”</p> - -<p>At this a man sitting in the room near the secretary’s -desk looked up with a sudden access of intense -interest; and, starting from his chair and -transfixing me with a sharp glance, he asked:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>“What interest have you in the Prendergast -case?”</p> - -<p>“None,” I said, “except that I don’t want to -have him, or anybody, hanged.”</p> - -<p>On the man’s face, tired, with the expression of -world-weariness life gives to the countenance behind -which there has been too much serious contemplation -of life, a face that seemed prematurely -wrinkled, there suddenly appeared a smile as winning -as a woman’s, and he said in a voice that had -the timbre of human sympathy and the humor of -a peculiar drawl:</p> - -<p>“Well, you’re all right, then.”</p> - -<p>It thereupon occurred to the governor’s secretary -to introduce us, and so I made the acquaintance -of Clarence Darrow. He had taken it upon -himself to neglect his duties as the attorney of -some of the railroads and other large corporations -in Chicago long enough to come down to Springfield -on his own initiative and responsibility to plead -with the Governor for this lad’s life (he was always -going on some such Quixotic errand of mercy for -the poor and the friendless), and we retired to the -governor’s ante-chamber to await the coming of -Gill. We talked for a while about the Prendergast -case, which might have had more sympathetic consideration -had it not persisted as the Carter Harrison -case in the mind of that public, which when -its latent spirit of vengeance is aroused can so -easily become the mob, but it was not long until I -discovered that Darrow had read books other than -those of the law, and for an hour we talked of Tolstoy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span> -and the other great Russians, and of Thomas -Hardy and of Mr. Howells, to enumerate no more -of the long catalogue of those realists whom we -liked in common, and when I discovered that he -actually knew Mr. Howells, knew him personally, as -the saying is, I could feel that poor Prendergast, -though I had never seen him in my life, or scarcely -ever thought of him until the night before, had done -me one service at least, and it made me all the more -anxious to save him.</p> - -<p>When Joe Gill’s tall Egyptian form came swinging -into the room our talk of books was interrupted -long enough to arrange for a hearing that afternoon, -and then we resumed our talk, and it endured -through luncheon and after, and I left him only -long enough to have a conversation with Gill and -to ask him as a sort of personal favor to an old -friend to spare the boy’s life.</p> - -<p>At two o’clock the hearing was called. The reporters -and the governor’s secretary and George -Brennan and I made the audience, and Gill sat up -erectly in the governor’s chair to hear the appeal. -Darrow asked me the proper address for a governor, -and I said since this was the lieutenant-governor -I thought “Your Excellency” would be propitiative, -and Darrow made one of those eloquent -appeals for mercy of which he is the complete master. -It moved us all, but the Lieutenant-Governor -gathered himself together and refused it, and Darrow -went back to Chicago to unfold those legal -technicalities which make our law so superior to -other forms in that they can stay the hand of its<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span> -vengeance. He did not succeed in the end, and the -boy was hanged, and murder has gone on in Chicago -since, I understand, the same as before. But Darrow -could not leave Springfield until midnight of -that day, and we talked about books all the evening, -and when he boarded his train he had in his valise -the MS. of my story about another governor and -another pardon, concerning which he was charged -to answer a certain question to which all my doubts -and perplexities could be reduced, namely: “Is it -worth while, and if not, is there any use in going on -and trying to write one that is?”</p> - -<p>I had to wait almost as long for his decision as -though he had been an editor himself, but when I -called at his office in Chicago one morning in the -autumn to get the MS., and he told me that his answer -to my question was “yes,” and that he would, -if I agreed, send the story to Mr. Howells, I was as -happy as though he had been an editor and had accepted -it for publication. I could not agree to its -being sent on to weary Mr. Howells, but took it -back with me to Springfield, in hope, if not in confidence.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>However, it has seemed to be my fate, or my -weakness, which we too often confuse with fate, to -vacillate between an interest in letters and an interest -in politics, and after that year, whose days -and nights were almost wholly given to studying -law, I was admitted to the bar, and thereupon felt<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span> -qualified to go out on the stump in the campaign that -autumn and speak in behalf of the Democratic ticket. -It was fun to drive out over Sangamon County in -those soft autumn evenings, over the soft roads,—though -if it rained they became too soft,—and to -speak in schoolhouses to the little audiences of farmers, -or of miners, on the iniquities of the tariff. If we -had been a little more devoted to principle, perhaps, -than we were to party, we might better have spoken -of the iniquities of that Democratic minority in -the Senate which had just completed its betrayal -of us all and helped to perpetrate those iniquities, -but when you belong to a party you are presumed -to adjust yourself to what your representatives do, -and to make the best of what generally is a pretty -bad bargain. The bargain of those senators had -been particularly bad, and so, instead of speaking -in the tones of righteous indignation, we had to -adopt the milder accents of apology and explanation, -and it was difficult to explain to some of those -audiences. There was more or less heckling, and -now and then impromptu little debates, and sometimes -when the meeting was done, and we started on -the long ride back to town, we would find that the -nuts had been removed from the axles of our carriage-wheels. -Perhaps that argument was as good -as any we had made, and it could not matter much -anyway, since partizan speeches never convince anybody, -and if they could, if they could do anything -but deepen and intensify prejudice, whole batteries -of the world’s best orators in that year could not -have overcome the vicious effects of that high betrayal,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span> -even though they had been led to the charge -by Phocion and Demosthenes.</p> - -<p>I suppose no greater moral wrong was ever committed -in America. It had been bad enough that -a policy of favoritism and advantage which appealed -to so many because of the good luck of its -reassuring name, had endured so long, as a sort of -necessity in the development of a new continent; it -had been bad enough that labor had first been lied to -and then subjugated by the lie, that women had -been driven into mills, and children had been fed to -the Moloch of the machines, and that on these sacrifices -there had been reared in America an insolent -plutocracy with the ideals of a gambler and the -manners of a wine-agent. But when the workingmen -had learned at last that the system did not -“protect” them, and when thousands of young men -in the land, filled with the idealism of youth, had -recognized the lie and the hypocrisy, and hated them -with a fine moral abhorrence, and had turned to the -Democratic party and trusted it to redeem its promise -to reform this evil, and had put it in power in -the nation, only to have its leaders in the Senate -betray them with the brutal cynicism such a cause -as theirs demands, then there was committed a deed -little short of dastardly. If that seems too strong a -word, the deed was surely contemptible, and base -enough to fill anyone with despair of the party and -of the party system as it had been developed in -America, though it has been understood by only two -men so far as I know—M. Ostrogorski and Golden -Rule Jones. It was enough to disgust anyone with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span> -politics altogether, and to forswear them and -parties, too, although I never quite understood the -philosophy of the attitude until, a few years later, -Golden Rule Jones made it clear. He made many -things clear, for he dropped the plummet of his original -mind down, down, down, more profoundly into -fundamental life than anyone I can think of.</p> - -<p>To me, in those days, the tariff question had -seemed entirely fundamental. I used to think that -if we could but have civil-service reform, and tariff -for revenue only, the world would go very well. The -tariff question is not considered fundamental in -these days, of course, so fast and so far past the -Mugwumps has the world run, though everybody realizes -its evil, and knows, or should know, that the -notion of privilege on which tariffs are founded is -quite fundamentally wrong, and every political party -promises to reduce its rates, or revise them, or at -least to take some measures against the lie.</p> - -<p>The Democratic party, to be sure, redeemed itself -later under the splendid leadership of President Wilson, -but at that time, while we recognized the evil of -the theory, we seemed to have sunk into a sordid -acquiescence in the fact; everybody thought the -tariff wrong, but nobody wished to have it done away -with so long as there was a chance, to speak in modern -American, for him to get in on the graft. The -word “graft” was unknown in those days, by all save -those thieves in whose argot it was found and devoted -to its present general use in the vocabulary. -I suppose it is in the dictionary by this time. In -any event, it is not strange that the word should<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span> -have become so current, since for a while we made -a national institution of the very thing it connotes.</p> - -<p>There was, however, then and always, the labor -question, and we were beginning to discover that -that is fundamental, perhaps the one great fundamental,—aside -from the complication of evil and -good that is inherent and implicit in humanity itself,—since -the burning question is and always will -be how the work of the world is to be got done, and, -what is a much more embarrassing problem, who is -to do it. Many of the men who had been doing that -work, or the heaviest of it, were striking in Illinois -in those years.</p> - -<p>The shots the Pinkertons had fired at Homestead -echoed in the state; Senator Palmer had made a -great speech about it in the Senate; and perhaps -the tariff had something to do with that, since tariffs -on steel have not been unknown. But there were -shots fired nearer home, first in the strike among -the men who were digging the drainage canal, then -among the miners in the soft coal fields of the state, -then the strike in the model town of Pullman, and -the great railroad strike that grew out of it.</p> - -<p>They called it the Debs Rebellion, and for a while -it assumed some of the proportions of a rebellion, -or at least it frightened many people in Illinois as -much as a rebellion might have done. We were in -the midst of all its alarms during that whole spring -and summer, and down in the adjutant-general’s -office at the State House there was the stir almost -of war itself, with troops being ordered here and -there about the state, and the Governor harried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> -and worried by a situation that presented to him -the abhorrent necessity of using armed force. I was -reading over the other day the report made to the -War Department by my friend Major Jewett Baker, -then a lieutenant in the Twelfth U. S. Infantry, -detailed with the National Guard of Illinois; and -in his clear and excellent account of all those confused -events the scenes of those times came back: -the long lines of idle freight cars, charred by incendiary -flames; the little groups of men standing -about wearing the white ribbons of the strike sympathizers, -and the colonel of the regular army, in -his cups at his club, who wished he might order a -whole regiment to shoot them, “each man to take -aim at a dirty white ribbon”; the regulars encamped -on the lake front, their sentinels pacing -their posts at the quickstep in the rain; and then -that morning conference in the mayor’s office in Chicago, -at which I was permitted to look on—what an -interesting life it is to look on at!—when there appeared -Eugene V. Debs, tall, lithe, nervous, leader of -the strikers, his hair, what there was of it, sandy, but -his head mostly bald, his eyes flashing, his mouth -ready to smile, soon to go to Woodstock Jail, to -emerge a Socialist, and become the leader of that -party.</p> - -<p>Major Baker’s report shows, indirectly and by inference, -that much of the criticism which the Governor -endured was not justified, since he turned out -all his troops as fast as local authorities asked for -them. At any rate, he acted according to his democratic -principles and to his conception of his duty.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span> -His principles were in a sense different from those -of President Cleveland, with whom he disagreed in -that notable instance when the President in his vigorous, -practical way sent federal troops into Chicago; -the Governor protested, as one of his predecessors -in the governor’s office, Senator Palmer, had -protested when President Grant sent federal troops -under Phil Sheridan into Chicago at the time of the -great fire. Almost everybody who had any way of -making his voice heard sided with President Cleveland, -and the end of the strike was accredited to -him. Doubtless the grim presence of those regular -troops did overawe the hoodlums who had taken advantage -of the strike to create disorder, but if the -credit must go to armed force, the report by Major, -or, as he was in those days, Lieutenant, Baker shows -that that little company of the Illinois National -Guard which ruthlessly fired into the mob at Loomis -Street one night virtually ended the disorder.</p> - -<p>Perhaps Governor Altgeld was willing to forego -any “credit” for an act, which, however necessary -to the preservation of order, demanded so many -lives. I do not know as to that, but I do recall the -expression which clouded his face that afternoon -we arrived at Lemont, during the strike at the drainage -canal. It occurred a year before the railway -strike, and the Governor had gone to Lemont himself -to make an investigation. He had asked Lieutenant -Baker and me to go with him, and when we -got off the train at Lemont, on the afternoon of -a cheerless day, the crowds were standing aimlessly -about, watching with a sullen curiosity the arrival<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span> -of the militia. The soldiers were just then going -into camp on the level rocks by a bridge across the -canal and the Desplaines River—the bridge, according -to the military scientists, was, I believe, considered, -for some mysterious reason, to be a strategic -point.</p> - -<p>The picture was one for the brush of Remington—those -young blue-clad soldiers (it was before the -days of our imperialism, and of the khaki our soldiers -now imitate the British in wearing)—and -Baker and I stood and gazed at it a moment, affected -by the fascination there always is in the -superficial military spectacle; and then, suddenly, -we were aware that there was another and more -dramatic point of interest, where a group stood -about the body of a workman who had been shot in -the riots of that morning. He was a foreigner, -the clothes he wore doubtless those he had had on -when he passed under the Statue of Liberty, coming -to this land with what hopes of freedom in his -breast no one can ever know. The wife who had -come with him was on her knees beside him, rocking -back and forth in her grief, dumb as to any words -in a strange land whose tongue she could not speak -or understand.</p> - -<p>The reporters from the Chicago newspapers were -there, and among them Eddie Bernard, an old -Whitechapeler, who told us that the man had -reached Lemont only a few days before, and had -been happy in the job he had so promptly found -in the new land of promise. And now, there he -lay, shot dead. Bernard looked a moment, and then<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span> -in the irony of a single phrase he expressed the -whole drama as he said:</p> - -<p>“The land of the free and the home of the brave!”</p> - -<p>That was fundamental, anyhow, and politics were -not going deeply into the question, except as such -men as Altgeld did so, and even they were criticized -sharply for attempting it. And one might well -be disgusted with politics, then and always, and -think of something that has the consolation of literature. -The traffic of politicians, as Mr. George Moore -somewhere says, is with the things of this world, -while art is concerned with the dreams, the visions -and the aspirations of a world beyond this. Though -literature must some day in this land concern itself -with that very question of labor, since it is with fundamental -life that art must deal, and be true in its -dealing.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Politics in those days—and not alone in those days -either—were mean, and while I do not intend to say -that this meanness bowed me with despair, it did fill -me with disgust, and made the whole business utterly -distasteful. Politics were almost wholly personal, -there was then no conception of them as related to -social life. An awakening was coming, to be sure, -and the signs were then apparent, even if but few saw -them. They were to most quite dim; but there were -here and there in the land dreamers of a sort, who -had caught a new vision. The feeling of it, the emotion, -was to find expression in Mr. Bryan’s great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span> -campaign in 1896; but there was then in Chicago a -little group, men who had read Henry George, or, -without reading him, had looked out on life intelligently -and gained a concept of it, or perhaps had -merely felt in themselves the stirrings of a new social -instinct, and these saw, or thought they saw, the way -to a better social order. They could not in those -days gain so patient a hearing for their views as they -have since, if any hearing they have had may after -all be called patient; they were not so very patient -themselves, perhaps, as men are quite apt not to be -when they think they see as clearly as though a perpetual -lightning blazed in the sky exactly what is the -matter with the world, and have a simple formula, -which, were it but tried, would instantly and infallibly -make everything all right.</p> - -<p>But these men were not in politics; some of them -were too impractical ever to be, and the only man -in politics who understood them at all was Altgeld. -Generally, the moral atmosphere of politics was foul -and heavy with the feculence of all the debauchery -that is inseparable from privilege. The personnel -of politics was generally low; and in city councils -and state legislatures there was a cynical contempt -of all the finer sentiments. It was not alone that -provincialism and philistinism which stand so obdurately -and with such bovine stupidity in the way -of progress; there was a positive scorn of the virtues, -and the alliance between the lobbyists and the lawyers -of the great corporation interests on the one hand, -and the managers of both the great political parties -on the other, was a fact, the worst feature of which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span> -was that no one seemed to care, or if a few did care, -they did not know what to do about it. It was a -joke among the newspaper men, who had little respect -for the men who filled the positions of power -and responsibility; the wonder was, indeed, after -such association, that they had any respect left for -anything in the world. Only the other day, reading -Walt Whitman’s terrific arraignment of the powers -that were in control of the government of the nation -in Buchanan’s time, his awful catalogue of the sorts -of men who composed the directorate of affairs,—it -may be read in his prose works by those who wish,—I -was struck by the similarity in this respect of that -time with that which immediately preceded the newer -and better time of the moral awakening in America. -Altgeld was one of the forerunners of this time; and, -in accordance with the universal law of human nature, -it was his fate to be misunderstood and ridiculed -and hated, even by many in his own party. He -was far in the van in most ways, so far that it was -impossible for his own party to follow him. It did -not follow him in his opposition to a bill which was -passed in the General Assembly to permit of the -consolidation of gas companies in Chicago; the machines -of the two parties were working well together -in the legislature—in one of those bipartizan alliances -which were not to be understood until many -years later, and even then not to be understood so -very clearly, since most of our cities have been governed -since by such alliances, in the interest of similar -gas companies and other public utility corporations—and -when the Governor vetoed their evil<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span> -measure, this same bipartizan machine sought to -pass it over his veto, and none was more active in -the effort than were the leaders of his own party in -the House.</p> - -<p>The supreme effort was made on the last night -of the session, amidst one of those riots which mark -the dissolution of our deliberative legislative bodies. -The lobbyists for the measure were quite shameless -that night, as they were on most nights, no doubt; -almost as shameless as the legislators themselves. -The House was in its shirt-sleeves; and there was -the rude horse-play of country bumpkins; paper -wads were flying, now and then some member -sent hurtling through the hot air his file of -printed legislative bills, and all the while there was -that confusion of sound, laughter, and oaths and -snatches of song, a sort of bedlam, in which laws -were being enacted—laws that must be respected -and even revered, because of their sacred origin. -The leaders were serious, but worried; the expressions -of their drawn, tense, nervous faces were unhappy -in suspicion and fear, and, perhaps, because -of uneasy consciences. The speaker sat above them, -pale and haggard, rapping his splintered sounding-board -with a broken gavel, rapping persistently and -futilely. And as the time drew near when the gas bill -was to come on for consideration, the nervous tension -was intensified, and evil hung almost palpably -in the hot, close air of that chamber. Those who -have had experience of legislative bodies, and have -by practice learned something of political aëroscopy, -can always tell when “something is coming off”;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span> -political correspondents have cultivated the sense, -and that night they could have divined nothing good -or pure or beautiful in that chamber (where the -portraits of Lincoln and of Douglas hung), unless -it were the mellow music, now and then, of the glass -prisms of the chandeliers hanging high from the -garish ceiling, as they tinkled and chimed whenever -some little breeze wandered in from the June night.</p> - -<p>And yet there was beauty there, moral beauty, as -there ever is somewhere in man. Out on the edge -of that bedlam, standing under the gallery on the -Democratic side, near the cloak-room, stood a tall, -lank man. You would have known him at once, anywhere, -as an Egyptian, as we called those who had -come from the Illinois land south of the old O. & M. -railroad. He was uncouth in appearance; he wore -drab, ill-fitting clothes, and at his wrinkled throat -there was no collar. He was a member, sent there -from some rural district far down in the southern end -of the state; and all through the session he had been -silent, taking no part, except to vote, and to vote, -on most occasions, with his party, which, in those -days, was the whole duty of man. This night would -see the end of his political career, if his brief experience -in an obscure position could be called a -career, and he stood there, silently looking on, -plucking now and then at his chin, his long, wrinkled -face brown and solemn and inscrutable.</p> - -<p>The old Egyptian stood there while the long roll -was being called, and the crisis approached, and -the nervous tension was a keen pain. And suddenly -one of the gas lobbyists went up to him, there on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> -the verge of the House, and began to talk with him. -I had the story a good while afterwards from one -of the whips, who, it seemed, knew all that had gone -on that night. The lobbyist of course knew about -the man, knew especially about his necessities, as -lobbyists do; and he began to talk to the old fellow -about them—about his poverty and his children, -and he used the old argument which has been employed -so long and so successfully with the rural -members of all our legislatures, and has been the -source of so much evil in our city governments, that -is, the argument that the bill concerned only Chicago, -and that the folks down home would neither -know nor care how he voted on it, and then—how -much two thousand dollars would mean to him. As -the lobbyist talked, there were various eyes that -looked at him, waiting for a sign; they needed only -a few votes then, and the roll-call was being delayed -by one pretense and another, and the clock on the -wall, inexorably ticking toward the hour of that -legislature’s dissolution, was turned back. The old -fellow listened and stroked his chin, and then presently, -when the lobbyist had done, he turned his -old blue eyes on him and said:</p> - -<p>“I reckon you’re right: I’m poor, and I’ve got a -big family. And you’re right, too, when you say -my people won’t know nor care: they won’t; they -don’t know nor care a damn; they won’t send me -back here, of course. And God knows what’s to -come of my wife and my children; I am going home -to them to-morrow and on Monday I’m going to -hunt me a job in the harvest-field; I reckon I’ll die<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span> -in the poorhouse. Yes, I’m going home—but”—he -stopped and looked the lobbyist in the eye—“I’m -going home an honest man.”</p> - -<p>My friend the whip told me the story as a curious -and somewhat confusing flaw in his theory that -every man is for sale,—“most of them damned -cheap,” he said,—and he thought it might make a -plot for a story; like many men I have known he -was incorrigibly romantic, and was always giving -me plots for stories. Well, they failed to pass the -bill over the Governor’s veto, and it was not long -until another story was pretty well known in Illinois, -about that Governor who that night was sitting up -over in the executive mansion, awaiting the action -of the general assembly. The story was that a -large quantity of the bonds of the gas company had -been placed at his disposal in a security vault in -Chicago, in a box to which a man was to deliver -him the key; all he had to do was to go take the -bonds—and permit the bill to become a law. His -answer, of course, was the veto—an offense as unpardonable -as the pardoning of the anarchists; and -no doubt many such offenses against the invisible -power in the land were more potent in bringing down -on his head that awful hatred than his mercy had -been—though this was made to serve as reason for -the hatred. Privilege, of course, hates mercy, too.</p> - -<p>The old Egyptian went back home, and I have -always hoped that he found a better job than he -went to seek in the harvest-fields, and that he did -not die at last to the poorhouse; but he was never -heard of more, and it was not long until the Governor<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span> -was driven from his office amid the hoots and -jeers and the hissing of a venomous hatred such as -nothing but political rancor knows, unless it be religious -rancor. Yes, politics had got pretty low in -those days, and its utter meanness, gradually revealed, -was enough to cause one to despair of his -country and his kind. Perhaps the old Egyptian -in the legislature and the idealist in the governor’s -chair should have been enough to keep one from despairing -altogether, though one honest old peasant -cannot save a legislature any more than one swallow -can make a summer. I do not mean to say that -he was the only honest man in the legislature: there -were many others, of course, but partizan politics -prevented their honesty from being of much avail; -or, at any rate, they did not control events. With -the measurable advance in thought since that time, -and the general progress of the species, we know -now that men do not control events half so much -as events control men; we do not know exactly what -it is that does control men—that is, those of us who -are not Socialists do not know.</p> - -<p>Altgeld, at any rate, was disgusted with politics, -as well he might have been, since they wrecked his -fortune and broke his heart. And it was with relief, -I know, that he said that morning,—almost the -last he passed in the governor’s chair,—as he and -I were going up the long walk to the State House -steps:</p> - -<p>“Well, we’re rid of this, anyway.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>That peculiar form of human activity, or inactivity, -known as getting a law practice, has been -so abundantly treated on the printed page that I -have not the temerity to add to the literature on -the interesting subject. The experience is never -dramatic, even if it is sometimes tragic, and it is -so often tragic that there has seemed no other recourse -for mankind than, by one of those tacit understandings -on which our race gets through life, to -view it as a comedy. It is no comedy, of course, -to the chief actor, who is sustained only by his -dreams, his illusions, and his ideals, and he may -count himself successful perhaps, if, when he has lost -his illusions, he can retain at least some of his ideals, -though the law is too apt to strip him of both. -However that may be, in my own experience in that -sort there was an incident which made its peculiar -impressions; indeed, there were several such incidents, -but the one which I have in mind involves the -perhaps commonplace story of Maria R——, which -ran like a serial during those trying years.</p> - -<p>I had intended to take up the practice of law -in Chicago; I was quite certain that there I should -set up my little enterprise, and this self-same certainty -is perhaps the reason why I found myself -back in Toledo, in a lonely little office in one of the -new office buildings; sky-scrapers they were called -in the new sense of metropolitan life that then began -to pervade the town; they were not so very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span> -high, but they seemed high enough to scrape the -low skies which arch so many of the grey days in -the lake region. It was as long ago, I believe, as -the time of Pythagoras that the law of the certain -uncertainty of certainty was deduced for the humbling -of human pride, and when my certainties with -regard to Chicago proved all to be broken reeds, -there were more gray days in that region of the -intemperate zone than the meteorological records -show. The little law office had a portrait of William -Dean Howells on its walls, and in time the portraits -of other writers, differing from those other -law offices which prefer to be adorned with pictures -of Chief Justice Marshall—a strong man, of course, -who wrote some strong fiction, too, in his day—and -of Hamilton and of Jefferson, indicating either a -catholicity or a confusion of principle on the part -of the occupying proprietor, of which usually he is -not himself aware. There were a few law-books, too, -and on the desk a little digest of the law of evidence -as affected by the decisions of the Ohio courts. I -had the noble intention of mastering it, but I did -not read in it very much, since for a long while -there was no one to pay me for doing so, and I -spent most of my hours at my desk over a manuscript -of “The 13th District,” a novel of politics I -was then writing, looking up now and then and gazing -out of the window at the blank rear walls of certain -brick buildings which made a dreary prospect, -even if one of them did bear, as I well remember, the -bright and reassuring legend, “Money to Loan at 6 -per cent.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>There were not many interruptions at first, but -after a while, when I had been appointed as attorney -to a humane society, there were times when I -had to lay my manuscripts aside. I felt it to be, in -a way, my duty to long for such interruptions, but -they usually came just at those times when I was -most absorbed in my manuscript, so that their welcome, -while affectedly polite, was not wholly from -the heart. One of these intrusions resulted in a -long trial before a justice of the peace; it was a -case that grew out of a neighborhood quarrel, and -all the inhabitants of the <i>locus in quo</i> were subpœnaed -as witnesses. Such a case of course always -affords an opportunity to study human nature; but -this one, too, had the effect ultimately of bringing -in many clients—and, as Altgeld had said, by way -of advice to me, got people in the habit of coming -to my office. Those witnesses acquired that habit, -and since human nature seemed to run pretty high -in that neighborhood most of the time, they got into -a good deal of trouble; they were most of them so -poor that they seldom got into anything else, unless -it were the jail or the workhouse, and some of them -were always ready to help send others of them to -those places. Out of the long file of poor miserable -creatures there emerged one day that Maria R—— -of whom I spoke. She was a buxom young German -emigrant, not long over from Pomerania, and her -fair skin and yellow hair, and a certain manner she -had, marked her out from all the rest. She came -with her children one morning to complain of her -husband’s neglect of them; and to her, as to the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span> -whole body of society which thinks no more deeply -than she did, it seemed the necessary, proper, and -even indispensable thing to put Rheinhold—that was -her husband’s name—in jail (You should have -heard her speak the name Rheinhold, with that delicious -note in which she <i>grasséyéd</i> her r’s.) There -she sat, on the little chair by the window, with her -stupidly staring boy and girl at her knees, but in -her arms the brightest, prettiest, flaxen-haired baby -in the world, a little elf who was always smiling, -and picking at her mother’s nose or cheeks with -her fat little fingers, and when she smiled, her -mother smiled, too; it was the only time she ever -did.</p> - -<p>Rheinhold of course drank; he “mistreated” his -children—that is, he did not buy them food. And -since the Humane Society was organized and maintained -for the explicit purpose of forcing people to -be humane, even though it had to be inhumane to -accomplish its purpose, the duty of its attorney was -clear.</p> - -<p>Its attorney just then felt in himself a rising indignation, -moral of course, yet very much like a -vulgar anger. To look at those children, especially -at that baby of which Maria was so fond, much -fonder it was plain to be seen than of the other -two, and to think of a man not providing for them, -was to have a rage against him, the rage which society, -so remorselessly moral in the mass, bears -against all offenders—the rage a good prosecutor -must keep alive and flaming in his breast if he -would nerve himself to his task and earn his fees<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span> -and society’s gratitude. And whom does society reward -so lavishly as her prosecutors?</p> - -<p>However, that is not the strain I would adopt -just now. I felt that very rage in myself at that -moment, and straightway went and had Rheinhold -arrested and haled before a judge in the Municipal -Court, charged with the crime of neglecting his children. -I can remember his wild and bewildered look -as he was arraigned that morning. The information -was read to him, and he moved his head in -such instant acquiescence that the judge, looking -down from his bench, asked him if he wished to plead -guilty, and he said “Yes.” It seemed then that -the case was to be quite easily disposed of, and the -prosecutor might feel gratified by this instant success -of his work; and yet Rheinhold stood there so -confused, so frightened, with the court-room loungers -looking on, that I said:</p> - -<p>“He doesn’t understand a word of all you are -saying.”</p> - -<p>And so the judge entered a plea of “not guilty.”</p> - -<p>I knew a young lawyer with rather large leisure, -and I asked him to defend Rheinhold. He was glad -to do so, and we empaneled a jury and went at what -Professor Wigmore calls the “high-class sport.” We -became desperately interested of course, and for -days wrangled according to the rules of the game -over the liberty of the bewildered little German who -scarcely knew what it was all about. Now and then -he made some wild, inarticulate protest, but was -of course promptly silenced by his own lawyer, or -by the judge, or by the rules of evidence, which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> -could be invoked—with a deep sense of satisfaction -when the court ruled your way—to prevent him -from telling something he had on his mind, something -that to him seemed entirely exculpatory, something -that would make the whole clouded situation -clear if it could only find its way to the light and -to the knowledge of mankind.</p> - -<p>There was a witness against him, a tall, slender -young German shoemaker, and it was against him -that Rheinhold’s outcries were directed. It was -not clear just what he was trying to say, and there -was small disposition to help him make it clear. -His lawyer indeed seemed embarrassed, as though in -making his incoherent interruptions Rheinhold were -committing a <i>contretemps</i>; he must wait for his -turn to testify, that all might be done in order and -according to the ancient rules and precedents, and, -in a word, as it should be done. Under the rules -of evidence, of course, Rheinhold could not be allowed -to express his opinion of the shoemaker; that -was not permissible. The court could not be concerned -with the passions of the human heart; this -man before the court had a family, and he had neglected -to provide food for it, and for such a condition -it was written and printed in a book that the -appropriate remedy was a certain number of days -or months in the workhouse.</p> - -<p>And so while Rheinhold silently and philosophically -acquiesced, we tried him during one whole day, -we argued nearly all the next day to the jury, and -the jury stayed out all that night and in the -morning returned a verdict of guilty. And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span> -Rheinhold was sent to the workhouse for nine -months.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was regarded as a triumph for the Humane -Society,—the newspapers had printed accounts of -the trial,—but it was a victory of which I felt pretty -much ashamed; it all seemed so useless, so absurd, -so barbarous, when you came to think of it, and -what good it had done Maria, or anyone, it was -difficult to determine. And so, before very long, I -went to the workhouse board and had Rheinhold -paroled, and he disappeared, vanished toward the -West, and was never heard of more.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Maria lived on in her little house as -best she could, and with what assistance we could -provide her. The Humane Society helped a little, -and my wife made some clothes for the baby, and -a good-natured doctor in the neighborhood attended -them when they were sick, which was a good -deal of the time; and Maria seemed happy enough -and contented, relying with such entire confidence -on her friends that one cold night she sent for me -in great urgency, and when I arrived she pointed -to the stove, which was smoking and not doing its -work in a satisfactory manner at all. I mended it -and got the fire going, and they managed to survive -the winter; and when spring came Maria appeared -at the office and wished to apply to the courts -for a divorce. It seemed as good a thing to do as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span> -any, and the evidence of Rheinhold’s cruel neglect -was by this time so conclusive that it was not much -trouble to obtain a decree, especially as the case -came before a delightful old bachelor judge who felt -that if people were not divorced they ought to be; -and after listening to two of the five or six witnesses -I had subpœnaed he granted Maria her freedom.</p> - -<p>And the next day she got married again. The -bridegroom was that very shoemaker who had testified -in Rheinhold’s trial; he lived not far from Maria’s -late residence, and the happy event, as I -learned then, was the culmination of a romance -which had disturbed Rheinhold to such a degree that -he had preferred to be anywhere rather than at -home; and it seemed now—it was now indeed quite -clear—that what he had been trying to explain at -the time of the trial was that his fate was involved in -the eternal triangle.</p> - -<p>I do not know where Rheinhold is now; as I said, -he was never heard of more, but I should like to -present my apologies to him and to inform him that -as a result of that expedition into the jungle of the -law in search of justice I discovered that whatever -other men might do, I could never again prosecute -anyone for anything; and I never did. And I think -that most of the attempts men make to do justice -in their criminal courts are about as mistaken, about -as absurd, about as ridiculous, as that solemn and -supremely silly effort we made to deal with such -a human complication by means of calf-bound law-books, -and wrangling lawyers, and twelve stupid -jurors ranged behind twelve spittoons. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span> -whole experience revealed to me the beauty and the -truth in that wise passage in Mr. Howells’s charming -book, “A Boy’s Town”:</p> - -<p>“In fact, it seems best to be very careful how we -try to do justice in this world, and mostly to leave -retribution of all kinds to God, who really knows -about things; and content ourselves as much as possible -with mercy, whose mistakes are not so irreparable.”</p> - -<p>That passage, I think, contains a whole and entirely -adequate philosophy of life; but I suppose -that those who shake their heads at such heresies -will be equally shocked to learn that Maria’s second -venture proved to be a remarkable success.</p> - -<p>The shoemaker was a frugal chap,—the evidence -discloses, I think, that he had been an unusually -frugal lover,—and he had saved some money, which, -it seems, he was determined not to spend on his fair -one until he could develop some legal claim to her, -but he treated her handsomely then, according to his -taste and ability. He bought a house in another -and better part of town, and he furnished it in a -way that dazzled the eyes of those children who -had been accustomed to bare floors and had never -known the glories of golden oak and blue and yellow -and red plush, ingrain carpets, and chenille -hangings; and he clothed them all and sent them -to school, and finally they all took his name, and, I -think, forgot poor Rheinhold altogether. And so, -in their new-found prosperity, they vanished out of -my sight, and I heard of them no more for years. -Then one day Maria’s little daughter, grown into a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span> -tall young girl by that time, came to tell me that -her mother was dead. Maria had started down town -with her husband, on Christmas Eve, to buy the gifts -for her children, and in the heavy snow that was -falling a defective sidewalk was hidden, and Maria -was thrown to the ground and so hurt that she died. -Her last words to her daughter had been, so the -girl said, “See Mr. Whitlock; he’ll do what should -be done.” Her heirs had a clear case against the -city, but I had just been elected mayor that autumn -and could not prosecute such a claim. Another lawyer -did so, and got damages for the children, and -even for the husband, and with these funds in a -trust company’s keeping the shoemaker educated -all the children. And he wore about his hat the -thickest hand of heavy crêpe that I ever saw.</p> - -<p>It seemed to annoy, and in some cases even to -anger, those whom I told of my resolution not to -prosecute anyone any more. They would argue -about it with me as if it made some real difference -to them; if every lawyer and every man were so to -decide, they said, who was to proceed against the -criminals, who was to do the work of purifying and -regenerating society? It has always been, of course, -a most interesting and vital question as to who is -to do the dirty work of all kinds in this world; but -their apprehensions, as I could assure them, were -all unfounded, since there are always plenty of lawyers, -and always plenty of them who are not only -willing but anxious to act as prosecutors, and to -put into their work that energy and enthusiasm -which the schools of efficiency urge upon the youth<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span> -of the land, and to prosecute with a ferocity that -could be no more intense if they had suffered some injury -in their own persons from the accused. And -there are even men who are willing, for the most -meager salaries, to act as guards and wardens in -prisons, and to do all manner of things, even to commit -crimes, or at least moral wrongs, in order to put -men into prison and keep them there, unless they -can kill them, and there are plenty who are willing -to do that, if only society provides them with a rope -or a wire to do it with.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>There was, however, in Toledo one man who could -sympathize with my attitude; and that was a man -whose determination to accept literally and to try to -practice the fundamental philosophy of Christianity -had so startled and confounded the Christians -everywhere that he at once became famous throughout -Christendom as “Golden Rule Jones.” I had -known of him only as the eccentric mayor of our city, -and nearly everyone whom I had met since my advent -in Toledo spoke of him only to say something disparaging -of him. The most charitable thing they -said was that he was crazy. All the newspapers -were against him, and all the preachers. My own -opinion, of course, could have been of no consequence, -but I had learned in the case of Altgeld that -almost universal condemnation of a man is to be -examined before it is given entire credit. I do not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span> -mean to say that there was universal condemnation -of Golden Rule Jones in Toledo in those days: it -was simply that the institutional voices of society, -the press and the pulpit, were thundering in condemnation -of him. When the people came to vote -for his reëlection his majorities were overwhelming, -so that he used to say that everybody was against -him but the people. But that is another story.</p> - -<p>In those days I had not met him. I might have -called at his office, to be sure, but I did not care to -add to his burdens. One day, suddenly, as I was -working on a story in my office, in he stepped with -a startling, abrupt manner, wheeled a chair up to -my desk, and sat down. He was a big Welshman -with a sandy complexion and great hands that had -worked hard in their time, and he had an eye that -looked right into the center of your skull. He wore, -and all the time he was in the room continued to -wear, a large cream-colored slouch hat, and he had -on the flowing cravat which for some inexplicable -reason artists and social reformers wear; their affinity -being due, no doubt, to the fact that the reformer -must be an artist of a sort, else he could not dream -his dreams. I was relieved, however, to find that -Jones wore his hair clipped short, and there was -still about him that practical air of the very practical -business man he had been before he became -mayor. He had been such a practical business man -that he was worth half a million, a fairly good fortune -for our town; but he had not been in office very -long before all the business men were down on him, -and saying that what the town needed was a business<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span> -man for mayor, a statement that was destined -to ring in my ears for a good many years. They -disliked him of course because he would not do just -what they told him to,—that being the meaning -and purpose of a business man for mayor,—but insisted -that there were certain other people in the -city who were entitled to some of his service and -consideration—namely, the working people and the -poor. The politicians and the preachers objected -to him on the same grounds: the unpardonable sin -being to express in any but a purely ideal and sentimental -form sympathy for the workers or the poor. -It seemed to be particularly exasperating that he -was doing all this in the name of the Golden Rule, -which was for the Sunday-school; and they even -went so far as to bring to town another Sam Jones, -the Reverend Sam Jones, to conduct a “revival” and -to defeat the Honorable Sam Jones. The Reverend -Sam Jones had big meetings, and said many clever -things, and many true ones, the truest among them -being his epigram, “I am for the Golden Rule myself, -up to a certain point, and then I want to take -the shotgun and the club.” I think that expression -marked the difference between him and our Sam -Jones, in whose philosophy there was no place at -all for the shotgun or the club. The preachers were -complaining that Mayor Jones was not using shotguns, -or at least clubs, on the “bad” people in the -town; I suppose that since their own persuasions -had in a measure failed, they felt that the Mayor -with such instruments might have made the “bad” -people look as if they had been converted anyway.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span>It was when he was undergoing such criticism as -this that he came to see me, to ask me to speak at -Golden Rule Park. This was a bit of green grass -next to his factory; he had dedicated it to the -people’s use, and there under a large willow-tree, -on Sunday afternoons, he used to speak to hundreds. -There was a little piano which two men could -carry, and with that on the platform to play the -accompaniments the people used to sing songs that -Jones had written—some of them of real beauty, and -breathing the spirit of poetry, if they were not always -quite in its form. In the winter these meetings -were held in Golden Rule Hall, a large room -that served very well as an auditorium, in his factory -hard by. On the walls of Golden Rule Hall -was the original tin sign he had hung up in his -factory as the only rule to be known there, “Therefore -whatsoever things ye would that men should -do to you, do ye even so to them.” In the course -of time every reformer, every radical, in the country -had spoken in that hall or under that willow-tree, -and the place developed an atmosphere that was -immensely impressive. The hall had the portraits of -many liberal leaders and humanitarians on its walls, -and a number of paintings; and in connection -with the settlement which Jones established across -the street the institution came to be, as a reporter -wrote one day in his newspaper, the center of intelligence -in Toledo.</p> - -<p>Well then, on that morning when first he called, -Jones said to me:</p> - -<p>“I want you to come out and speak.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>“On what subject?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“There’s only one subject,” he said,—“life.” And -his face was radiant with a really beautiful smile, -warmed with his rich humor. I began to say that I -would prepare something, but he would not let me -finish my sentence.</p> - -<p>“Prepare!” he exclaimed. “Why prepare? Just -speak what’s in your heart.”</p> - -<p>He was always like that. Once, a good while -after, in one of his campaigns, he called me on the -telephone one evening just at dinner time, and said:</p> - -<p>“I want you to go to Ironville and speak to-night.”</p> - -<p>I was tired, and, as I dislike to confess, somewhat -reluctant,—I had always to battle so for a little -time to write,—so that I hesitated, asked questions, -told him, as usual, that I had no speech prepared.</p> - -<p>“But you know it is written,” he said, “that ‘in -that hour it shall be given you what ye shall say.’”</p> - -<p>I could assure him that the prophecy had somewhat -failed in my case, and that what was given -me to say was not always worth listening to when -it was said; and then I inquired:</p> - -<p>“What kind of crowd will be there?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, a good crowd!” he said.</p> - -<p>“But what kind of people?”</p> - -<p>“What kind of people?” he asked in a tone of -great and genuine surprise. “What kind of people? -Why, there’s only one kind of people—just people, -just folks.”</p> - -<p>I went of course, and I went as well to Golden -Rule Park and to Golden Rule Hall, and there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span> -never such a school for public speaking as that -crowded park afforded, with street cars grinding -and scraping by one side of it and children laughing -at their play on the swings and poles which -Jones had put there for them; or else standing below -the speaker and looking curiously up into his -face, and filling him with the fear of treading any -moment on their little fingers which, as they clung to -the edge, made a border all along the front of the -platform. And for a year or so after his death I -spoke there every Sunday: we were trying so hard to -keep his great work alive.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was our interest in the disowned, the outcast, -the poor, and the criminal that drew us first together; -that and the fact that we are gradually -assuming the same attitude toward life. He was full -of Tolstoy at that time, and we could talk of the -great Russian, and I could introduce him to the -other great Russians. He was then a little past -fifty, and had just made the astounding discovery -that there was such a thing as literature in the -world: he had been so busy working all his life that -he had never had time to read, and the whole world -of letters burst upon his vision all suddenly, and the -glorious prospect fairly intoxicated him, so that he -stood like stout Cortez, though not so silent, upon -a peak in Darien.</p> - -<p>He was reading Mazzini also, and William Morris<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span> -and Emerson, who expressed his philosophy fully, or -as fully as one man can express anything for another, -and it was not long before Jones discovered -an unusual facility for expressing himself, both with -his voice and with his pen. The letters he wrote -to the men in his shops—putting them in their pay-envelopes—are -models of simplicity and sincerity, -which show a genuine culture and have that beauty -which is the despair of conscious art.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a> He had just -learned of Oscar Wilde’s “Ballad of Reading Gaol,” -and he committed it to memory, or got it into his -memory somehow, so that he would recite stanzas of -it to anyone. He read Burns, too, with avidity, -and I can see him now standing on the platform in -one of his meetings, snapping his fingers as he -recited:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">A fig for those by law protected!</div> -<div class="verse">Liberty’s a glorious feast!</div> -</div></div> - -<p>But it was Walt Whitman whom he loved most, -and his copy of “Leaves of Grass” was underscored -in heavy lines with a red pencil until nearly every -striking passage in the whole work had become a -rubric. When anything struck him, he would have -to come and tell me of it; sometimes he would not -wait, but would call me up on the telephone and -read it to me. I remember that occasion when his -voice, over the wire, said:</p> - -<p>“Listen to this [and he read]:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse"> -“The snag-tooth’d hostler with red hair, redeeming sins past and to come,</div> -<div class="verse">Selling all he possesses, traveling on foot to fee lawyers for his -brother and sit by him while he is tried for forgery.”</div> -</div></div> - -<p>Then he laughed, and his chuckle died away on -the wire. That expressed him; that was exactly -what he would have done for a brother, exactly what -he did do for many a brother, since he regarded all -men as his brothers, and treated them as such if -they would let him. He was always going down to -the city prisons, or to the workhouses, and talking -to the poor devils there, quite as if he were one of -them, which indeed he felt he was, and as all of us -are, if we only knew it. And he was working all -the time to get them out of prison, and finally he -and I entered into a little compact by which he paid -the expenses incident to their trials—the fees for -stenographers and that sort of thing—if I would -look after their cases. Hard as the work was, and -sad as it was, and grievously as my law partners -complained of the time it took, and of its probable -effect on business (since no one wished to be known -as a criminal lawyer!), it did pay in the satisfaction -there was in doing a little to comfort and console—and, -what was so much more, to compel in one -city, at least, a discussion of the grounds and the -purpose of our institutions. For instance, if some -poor girl were arrested, and a jury trial were demanded -for her, and her case were given all the care -and attention it would have received had she been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span> -some wealthy person, the police, when they found -they could not convict, were apt to be a little more -careful of the liberties of individuals: they began to -have a little regard for human rights and for human -life.</p> - -<p>We completely broke up the old practice of arresting -persons “on suspicion” and holding them at the -will and pleasure of the police without any charge -having been lodged against them; two or three trials -before juries, the members of which could very easily -be made to see, when it was pointed out to them -a few times in the course of a three days’ trial, that -there is nothing more absurd than that policemen -should make criminals of people merely by suspecting -them, and sending them to prison on that -sole account, wrought a change. It annoyed the -officials of course, because it interfered with their -routine. It was no doubt exasperating to be compelled -to stay in court two or three days and try -some wretch according to the forms of law, just as -if he were somebody of importance and consequence -in the world, when they would so much rather have -been out at the ball-game, or fishing, or playing -pinochle in the guard-room at police headquarters -with the detail that had been relieved. Jones managed -to get himself fined for contempt one day, and -he immediately turned the incident to his own advantage -and made his point by drawing out his -check-book with a flourish, writing his check for -the amount of his fine, and declaring that this -proved his contention that the only crime our civilization -punishes is the crime of being poor.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>But he was most in his element when the police -judge was absent, as he was now and then. In -that exigency the law gave Jones, as mayor, the -power to appoint the acting police judge; and -when Jones did not go down and sit as magistrate -himself, he appointed me; and we always found some -reason or other for letting all the culprits go. The -foundations of society were shaken of course, and -the editorials and sermons were heavy with all the -predictions of disaster; one might have supposed -that the whole wonderful and beautiful fabric of -civilization which man had been so long in rearing -was to fall forever into the awful abyss because a -few miserable outcasts had not been put in prison. -But nothing happened after all; the poor <i>misérables</i> -were back again in a few days, and made to resume -their hopeless rounds through the prison doors; but -the policemen of Toledo had their clubs taken away -from them, and they became human, and learned -to help people, and not to hurt them if they could -avoid it; and that police judge who once fined Jones -became in time one of the leaders in our city of the -new social movement that has marked the last decade -in America.</p> - -<p>I learned to know a good many people in that -underworld, many of whom were professed criminals, -and there were some remarkable characters among -them. I learned that, just as Jones had said, they -were all people, just folks, and that they had so -much more good than bad in them, that if some -way could be devised whereby they might have a -little better opportunity to develop the good, there<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span> -was hope for all of them. Of course, in any effort -to help them,—and our efforts were not always -perhaps wholly wise,—we encountered that most -formidable and fundamental obstacle to prison reform, -the desire in the human breast for revenge, -the savage hatred which is perhaps some obscure -instinct of protection against the anti-social members -of society: it stands forever in the way of all -prison reform, and of ameliorations of the lot of -the poor. It is that which keeps the barbarity of -capital punishment alive in the world; it is that -which makes every prison in the land a hell, where -from time to time the most revolting atrocities are -practiced. Out of those experiences, out of the contemplation -of the misery, the pathos, the hopelessness -of the condition of those victims, I wrote “The -Turn of the Balance.” I was very careful of my -facts; I was purposely conservative, and, forgetting -the advice of Goethe, softened things down; as for -instance, where I had known of cases in which prisoners -had been hung up in the bull-rings for thirty -days,—being lowered to the floor each night of -course,—I put it down as eight days, and so on. -And the wise and virtuous judges and the preachers -and the respectable people all said it was untrue, -that such things could not be. Since then there -have been investigations of prisons in most of the -states, with revelations of conditions far worse than -any I tried to portray. And such things have gone -on, and are going on to-day; but nobody cares.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>And yet somebody after all did care about all -those miserable souls who are immured in the terrible -prisons which society maintains as monuments -to the strange and implacable hatred in the breast -of mankind; perhaps, in the last chapter of these -vagrant memories, I allowed to creep into my utterance -some of the old bitterness which now and then -would taint our efforts, do what we might. And -that is not at all the note I would adopt, though -it used at times to be very difficult not to do so; -one cannot, day after day, beat against the old and -solid and impregnable wall of human institutions -without becoming sore and sick in one’s soul.</p> - -<p>And there is no institution which society so cherishes -as she does her penal institutions, and most -sacrosanct of these are the ax, the guillotine, the -garrote, the gibbet, the electric chair. We tried -at each session of the legislature to secure the passage -of a bill abolishing capital punishment, but -the good people, those who felt that they held in -their keeping the morals of the state, always opposed -it and defeated it. Beloved and sacred institution! -No wonder the ship-wrecked sailor, cast -upon an unknown shore, on looking up and beholding -a gallows, fell on his knees and said; “Thank -God, I’m in a Christian land!”</p> - -<p>Travelers visit prisons and places of execution, -those historic spots where humanity made red blots -on its pathway in the notion that it was doing justice,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span> -and always they sigh and shake their heads, -beholding in those events only a supreme folly and -a supreme cruelty.</p> - -<p>All the executions, all the imprisonments of the -past are seen to have been mistakes made by savages; -there is not one for which to-day a word is -uttered in excuse. All the Golgothas of the world -have become Calvaries, where men go in pity and in -tears in the hope that their regret may somehow -work a retroactive expiation of the guilt of their -cruel ancestors—and they rise from their knees and -go forth and acquiesce in brutalities that are to-day -different only in the slightest of degrees from -those they bemoan.</p> - -<p>And so all the other executions of death sentences, -on subjects less distinguished, with no glimmer of -the halo of romance, no meed of martyrdom to illumine -them, are seen to have been huge and grotesque -mistakes of a humanity that at times gives -itself over to the elemental savage lust of the blood -of its fellows.</p> - -<p>I do not say, of course, that there was any similarity -between the offenses of those whom Jones -and I were concerned about in those days and those -striking figures who illustrate the history of the -world and mark the slow spiral path of the progress -of mankind; these were the commonest of common -criminals, poor, mistaken, misshapen beings, somehow -marred in the making.</p> - -<p>It was my lot to defend a number of those who -had committed murders, some of them murders so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span> -foul that there was nothing to say in their behalf. -All one could say was in behalf of those whom one -would save from committing another murder. But -when you have come to know even a murderer, when -day after day you have visited him in his cell, and -have talked with him, and have seen him laugh and -cry, and have had him tell you about his family, and -that amazing complexity which he calls his life, when -gradually you come to know him, no matter how -undeserving he may be in the abstract, he undergoes -a strange and subtle metamorphosis; slowly -and gradually, without your being aware, he ceases -to be a murderer, and becomes a human being, very -much like all those about you. Thus, there is no -such thing as a human being in the abstract; they -are all thoroughly and essentially concrete.</p> - -<p>I have wandered far in these speculations, but I -hope I have not wandered too far to make it clear -that Jones’s point of view was always and invariably -the human point of view; he knew no such thing -as murderers, or even criminals, or “good” people, -or “bad” people, they were all to him men and, indeed, -brothers. And if society did not care about -them, except in its desire to make way with them, -Jones did care, and there were others who cared; -the poor cared, the working people cared,—though -they might themselves at times give way to the -same elemental social rage,—they always endorsed -Jones’s leniency whenever they had the opportunity. -They had this opportunity at the polls every two -years, and they never failed him.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>They did not fail him even in that last campaign -of his, though every means known to man was tried -to win them away from their peculiar allegiance. -It was a strange campaign; I suppose there was -never another like it in America. As I think of it -there come back the recollections of those raw spring -nights; we held our municipal elections in the spring -in those days, that is, spring as we know it in the -region of the Great Lakes. It is not so much spring -as it is a final summing-up and recapitulation of -winter, a coda to a monstrous meteorological concerto -as doleful as the allegro lamentoso of Tschaikovsky’s -“Sixth Symphony.” There is nowhere in -the world, so far as I know, or care to know, such an -abominable manifestation of the meanness of nature; -it is meaner than the meanness of human nature, -entailing a constant struggle with winds, a perpetual -bending to gusts of snow that is rain, or a rain -that is hail, with an east wind that blows persistently -off Lake Erie for two months, with little stinging -barbs of ice on its breath—and then, suddenly, it is -summer without any gentle airs at all to introduce -its heat.</p> - -<p>Jones was not very well that spring; and his -throaty ailment was the very one that should have -been spared such dreadful exposures as he was subjected -to in that campaign. It was in the days before -motor cars, and he and I drove about every -night from one meeting to another in a little buggy -he had, drawn by an old white mare named Molly, -whose shedding of her coat was the only vernal sign -to be detected anywhere. But Jones was so full<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span> -of humor that he laughed at nearly everything—even -his enemies, whom he never would call enemies. -I can see him now—climbing down out of the buggy, -carefully blanketing old Molly against the raw -blasts, then brushing the white hairs from his front -with his enormous hands, and running like a boy up -the stairway to the dim little hall in the Polish -quarter where the crowd had gathered. The men -set up a shout when they saw him, and he leaped -on the stage and, without waiting for the chairman -to introduce him,—he scorned every convention that -obtruded itself,—he leaned over the front of the -platform and said:</p> - -<p>“What is the Polish word for liberty?”</p> - -<p>The crowd of Poles, huddling about a stove in -the middle of the hall, their caps on, their pipes -going furiously, their bodies covered with the -strange garments they had brought with them across -the sea, shouted in reply.</p> - -<p>“<i>Wolność!</i>”</p> - -<p>And Jones paused and listened, cocked his head, -wrinkled his brows, and said:</p> - -<p>“What was that? Say it again!”</p> - -<p>Again they shouted it.</p> - -<p>“Say it again—once more!” he demanded. And -again they shouted it in a splendid chorus. And -then——</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Golden Rule Jones, “I can’t pronounce -it, but it sounds good, and that is what we -are after in this campaign.”</p> - -<p>Now that I have written it down, I have a feeling -that I have utterly failed to give an adequate sense<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span> -of the entire spontaneity and simplicity with which -this was done. It was, of course, tremendously effective -as a bit of campaigning, but only because it -was so wholly sincere. Five minutes later he was -hotly debating with a working man who had interrupted -him to accuse him of being unfair to union -labor in his shops, and there was no coddling, no -truckling, no effort to win or to please on his part, -though he would take boundlessly patient pains to -explain to anyone who really wanted to know anything -about him or his official acts.</p> - -<p>He was natural, simple and unspoiled, as naïve as -a child, and “except ye become as little children -ye cannot enter the kingdom of heaven.” He fully -realized that the kingdom of heaven is within one’s -self; he was not looking for it, or expecting it anywhere -outside of himself, certainly he was not expecting -it in a political campaign, or in the mere -process of being elected to an office. He regarded -his office, indeed, only as an opportunity to serve, -and he had been in that office long enough to have -lost any illusions he may ever have had concerning -it; one term will suffice to teach a man that lesson, -even though he seek the office again.</p> - -<p>He was like an evangelist, in a way, and his meetings -were in the broad sense religious, though he -had long since left his church, not because its ministers -were always condemning him, but for the same -reasons that Tolstoy left his church. His evangel -was that of liberty. He had written a number of -little songs. One of them, set to the tune of an old -hymn he had heard in Wales as a boy, had a noble<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span> -effect when the crowd sang it. It was the <i>Gad im -Deimle</i>. His wife, who is an accomplished musician, -had transposed its minors into majors, and in its -strains, as they were sung by the men in his shops,—and -there was singing for you!—or by the people -in his political meetings, there was all the Welsh -love of music, all the Welsh love of liberty, and a -high and pure emotion in the chorus:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Ever growing, swiftly flowing,</div> -<div class="verse">Like a mighty river</div> -<div class="verse">Sweeping on from shore to shore,</div> -<div class="verse">Love will rule this wide world o’er.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>It was his Welsh blood, this Celtic strain in him, -that accounted for much that was in his temperament, -his wit, his humor, his instinctive appreciation -of art, his contempt for artificial distinctions, his -love of liberty, his passionate democracy. Sitting -one evening not long ago in the visitor’s gallery of -the House of Commons I saw the great Welsh radical, -David Lloyd George, saw him enter and take his -seat on the government bench. And as I looked at -him I was impressed by his resemblance to someone I -had known; there was a strange, haunting likeness, -not in any physical characteristic, though there -was the same Welsh ruddiness, and the hair was -something like—but when Mr. Lloyd George turned -and whispered to the prime minister and smiled I -started, and said to myself: “It is Jones!”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>There was something pathetic in that last campaign, -the pathos, perhaps, of the last phase. The -long years of opposition had begun to tell: there was -a strong determination to defeat him. He had not -wished to stand again for the office, but, after the -Toledo custom, there had been presented to him an -informal petition, signed by several thousand citizens, -asking him to do so, and he had consented. -But when he wrote a statement setting forth his position—it -was a document with the strong flavor of his -personality in it—the newspapers refused to publish -it; some of them would not publish it even as advertising, -and he opened his campaign on the post-office -corner, standing bare-headed in the March wind, his -son Paul blowing a saxophone to attract a crowd. -Many of his old supporters were falling away; it -seemed for a time that he alone would have to make -the campaign without any to speak for him on the -stump; far otherwise than in that second campaign, -when, after having been counted out in the Republican -convention, he had run for the first time independently, -a “Man Without a Party,” as he called -himself; and thousands, themselves outraged by the -treatment his own party had accorded him, in the -spirit of fair play had rallied to his standard.</p> - -<p>But now things had changed, and an incident -which occurred at the beginning of this campaign -was significant of the feeling toward him, though in -all kindness it most not be told in detail. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> -was a prominent man in town who had publicly reviled -him and criticized him and persecuted him, who -had done that which cut him more deeply than all -else, that is, he had impugned his motives and questioned -his sincerity. In some human hunger for understanding, -I suppose, Jones went to this man -with his written statement of his position and asked -him to read it, merely to read it. The fellow’s answer -was to snatch the paper from Jones’s hand -and tear it up in his face. It is easy to imagine -what a man ordinarily would do in the face of such -an amazing insult; surely, if ever, the time had come -for the “shotgun and the club.” Mayor Jones was -large and powerful, he had been reared in the oil -fields, where blows are quick as tempers; he was athletic, -always in training, for he took constant physical -exercise (one of the counts against him, indeed, -was that he slept out of doors on the roof of his -back porch, a bit of radicalism in those days, grown -perfectly orthodox in these progressive times), and -he was a Celt, naturally quick to resent insult, of -a temperament prompt to take fire. But he turned -away from the fellow, without a word.</p> - -<p>He came to my office immediately afterward, and -I saw that he was trying hard to master some unusual -emotion. I shall never forget him as he sat -there, telling me of his experience. After a little -while his face broke into that beautiful smile of -his, more beautiful than I had ever seen it, and he -said:</p> - -<p>“Well, I’ve won the greatest victory of my life; -I have won at last a victory over myself, over my<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span> -own nature. I have done what it has always been -hardest for me to do.”</p> - -<p>“What?” I asked.</p> - -<p>He sat in silence for a moment, and then he said:</p> - -<p>“You know, it has always seemed to me that the -most remarkable thing that was ever said of Jesus -was that when he was reviled, he reviled not again. -It is the hardest thing in the world to do.”</p> - -<p>The struggle over the renewal of the franchise -grants to the street railway company had already -begun, and the council had attempted to grant it the -franchise it wished, renewing its privileges for another -twenty-five years. When Mayor Jones vetoed -the bill, the council prepared to pass it over his -veto, and would have done so that Monday night -had it not been for two men—Mayor Jones and Mr. -Negley D. Cochran, the editor of the <i>News-Bee</i>, -a newspaper which has always taken the democratic -viewpoint of public questions. Mr. Cochran, with -his brilliant gift in the writing of editorials, had -called out the whole populace, almost, to attend the -meeting of the council and to protest. The demonstration -was so far effective that the council was -too frightened to pass the street railway ordinance. -The attorney for the street railway company was -there, and when there was a lull in the noise, he -sneered:</p> - -<p>“I suppose, Mr. Mayor, that this is an example -of government under the Golden Rule.”</p> - -<p>“No,” replied Jones in a flash, “it is an example -of government under the rule of gold.”</p> - -<p>Unless it were because of his interference with the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span> -nefarious privileges of a few, one can see no reason -why the press and pulpit should have opposed him. -What had he done? He had only preached that -the fundamental doctrine of Christianity was sound, -and, as much as a man may in so complex a civilization, -he had tried to practice it. He had taught -kindness and tolerance, and pity and mercy; he had -visited the sick, and gone to those that were in -prison; he had said that all men are free and equal, -that they have been endowed by their Creator with -certain inalienable rights. He had said that it is -wrong to kill people, even in the electric chair, that -it is wrong to take from the poor, without giving -them in return. He had not said these things in -anger, or in bitterness; he had never been personal, -he had always been explicit in saying that he, as a -part of society, was equally to blame with all the -rest for social wrongs. The only textbooks he ever -used in his campaigns were the New Testament, the -Declaration of Independence, and, of course, his beloved -Walt Whitman. And yet the pulpits rang -every Sunday with denunciations of him, and the -newspapers opposed him. Why was it, because a -man endorsed these old doctrines upon which society -claims to rest, that society should denounce -him?</p> - -<p>I think it was because he was so utterly and entirely -sincere, and because he believed these things, -and tried to put them into practice in his life, and -wished them to be more fully incorporated in the -life of society. Society will forgive anything in a -man, except sincerity. If he be sincere in charity,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span> -in pity, in mercy, in sympathy for the outcast, the -despised, the imprisoned, all that vast horde of the -denied and proscribed, still less will it forgive him, -for it knows instinctively that the privileges men -have or seek could not exist in a system where -these principles were admitted as vital, inspiring -force.</p> - -<p>There was nothing, of course, for one who believed -in the American doctrines to do but to support -such a man, and when he appeared to be so utterly -without supporters it seemed to be one’s duty more -than ever, though I own to having shrunk from such -unconventional methods as Jones employed. That -meeting at the post-office corner, for instance; someone -might laugh, and in the great American self-consciousness -and fear of the ridiculous, what was -one to do? The opposition, that is, the two old -parties, the Republican and Democratic, had nominated -excellent men against Jones; the Republican -nominee, indeed, Mr. John W. Dowd, was a man -to whom I had gone to school, an old and very dear -friend of our family, a charming gentleman of cultivated -tastes. It was not easy to be in the attitude -of opposing him, but my duty seemed clear, and I -went into the campaign with Jones, and we spoke -together every night.</p> - -<p>It was a campaign in which were discussed most -of the fundamental problems of social life. A -stranger, coming to Toledo at that time, might have -thought us a most unsophisticated people, for there -were speculations about the right of society to inflict -punishment, the basis of property, and a rather<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span> -searching inquiry into the subject of representative -government. This was involved in the dispute as to -the propriety of political machines, for the Republicans -by that time had a party organization so strong -that it was easily denominated a machine; it was so -strong that it controlled every branch of the city -government except the executive; it never could defeat -Jones. There was a good deal said, too, about -the enforcement of law, a subject which has its fascination -for the people of my town.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Besides these interesting topics there was the subject -of municipal home rule. This had already become -vital in Toledo because, a year or so before, -the Republican party organization through its influence -in the state, without having to strain its -powers of persuasion, had induced the legislature -to pass a special law which deprived the Mayor of -Toledo of his control of the police force and vested -the government of that body in a commission appointed -by the governor of the state.</p> - -<p>It had been, of course, a direct offense to Jones, -and it was intended to take from him the last of his -powers. He had been greatly roused by it; the -morning after the law had been enacted he had -appeared at my house before breakfast to discuss -this latest assault upon liberty. The law was an -exact replica of a law that had been passed for Cincinnati -many years before, and that law had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span> -sustained by the Supreme Court in a decision which -had made it the leading case on that subject of constitutional -law for a whole generation. Time and -again it had been attacked and always it had been -sustained; to contest the constitutionality of this -new act seemed the veriest folly.</p> - -<p>But Jones was determined to resist; like some -stout burgomaster of an old free city of Germany -he determined to stand out against the city’s overlords -from the rural districts, and he insisted on my -representing him in the litigation which his resistance -would certainly provoke. I had no hope of -winning, and told him so; I explained the precedent -in the Cincinnati case, and that only made him more -determined; if there was one thing more than another -for which he had a supreme and sovereign -contempt it was a legal precedent. My brethren at -the bar all laughed at me, as I knew they would; but -I went to work, and after a few days’ investigation -became convinced that the doctrine laid down in -that leading case was not at all sound.</p> - -<p>When I came to this conviction, I induced Jones -to retain additional counsel, one of the most brilliant -lawyers at our bar, Mr. Clarence Brown, a man -who, in addition to his knowledge of the law, could -bring to the forum a charming personality, a wit and -an eloquence that were irresistible. He, too, set to -work, and in a few days he was convinced, as I, that -the precedent should be overthrown. Jones refused -to turn over the command of the police to the new -commissioners whom the governor appointed; they -applied to the Supreme Court for a writ of mandamus,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span> -we tried the case, and we won, overthrowing -not only the doctrine at the Cincinnati case, but the -whole fabric of municipal legislation in the state, so -that a special session of the legislature was necessary -to enact new codes for the government of the -cities.</p> - -<p>Our satisfaction and our pride in our legal -achievement was somewhat modified by the fact that -the application of the same rule to conditions in -our sister city of Cleveland had the effect, in certain -cases then pending, of pulling down the work -which another great mayor, Tom L. Johnson, was -then doing in that city. It was even said that the -Supreme Court had been influenced by the desire of -Mark Hanna, Tom Johnson’s ancient enemy in -Cleveland, to see his old rival defeated. Some were -unkind enough to say that Mark Hanna’s influence -was more powerful with the court, as at that time -constituted, than was the logic of the attorneys -who were representing Golden Rule Jones.</p> - -<p>But however that may have been, the decision in -that case had ultimate far-reaching effects in improving -the conditions in Ohio cities, and was the -beginning of a conflict that did not end until they -were free and autonomous. In my own case it was -the beginning of a study of municipal government -that has grown more fascinating as the years have -fled, a study that has led me to see, or to think that -I see, the large hope of our democracy in the cities of -America.</p> - -<p>I regard it as Jones’s supreme contribution to -the thought of his time that, by the mere force of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span> -his own original character and personality, he compelled -a discussion of fundamental principles of government. -Toledo to-day is a community which has -a wider acquaintance with all the abstract principles -of social relations than any other city in the land, -or in the world, since, when one ventures into generalities, -one might as well make them as sweeping -as one can.</p> - -<p>Jones’s other great contribution to the science of -municipal government was that of non-partizanship -in local affairs. That is the way he used to express -it; what he meant was that the issues of national -politics must not be permitted to obtrude themselves -into municipal campaigns, and that what divisions -there are should be confined to local issues. There -is, of course, in our cities, as in our land or any -land, only one issue, that which is presented by the -conflict of the aristocratic, or plutocratic, spirit and -the spirit of democracy.</p> - -<p>Jones used to herald himself as “a Man Without -a Party,” but he was a great democrat, the most -fundamental I ever knew or imagined; he summed -up in himself, as no other figure of our time since -Lincoln, all that the democratic spirit is and hopes -to be. Perhaps in this characterization I seem to -behold his figure larger than it was in relation to the -whole mass, but while his work may appear at first -glance local, it was really general and universal. No -one can estimate the peculiar and lively force of such -a personality; certainly no one can presume to limit -his influence, for such a spirit is illimitable and -irresistible.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span>He was elected in that last campaign for the -fourth time, but he did not live very long. He had -never, it seemed to me, been quite the same after the -day when he had that experience of insult which -he did not resent. “Draw the sting,” he used to -counsel us when, in our campaign harangues, we became -bitter, or sarcastic, or merely smart. He had -supreme reliance on the simple truth, on the power -of reasonableness. He never reviled again; he never -sought to even scores. When he died the only -wounds he left in human hearts were because he was -no more. They understood him at last, those who -had scoffed and sneered and abused and vilified, and -I, who had had the immense privilege of his friendship, -and thought I knew him,—when I stood that -July afternoon, on the veranda of his home, beside -his bier to speak at his funeral, and looked out over -the thousands who were gathered on the wide lawn -before his home,—I realized that I, too, had not -wholly understood him.</p> - -<p>I know not how many thousands were there; they -were standing on the lawns in a mass that extended -across the street and into the yards on the farther -side. Down to the corner, and into the side streets, -they were packed, and they stood in long lines all the -way out to the cemetery. In that crowd there were -all sorts of that one sort he knew as humanity without -distinction,—judges, and women of prominence -and women whom he alone would have included in -humanity, there were thieves, and prize-fighters,—and -they all stood there with the tears streaming -down their faces.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>There is no monument to Golden Rule Jones in -Toledo; and since St. Gaudens is gone I know of no -one who could conceive him in marble or in bronze. -There is not a public building which he erected, no -reminder of him which the eye can see or the hands -touch. But his name is spoken here a thousand -times a day, and always with the reverence that -marks the passage of a great man upon the earth. -And I am sure that his influence did not end here. -Did not a letter come from Yasnaya Polyana in -the handwriting of the great Tolstoy, who somehow -had heard of this noble and simple soul who was, in -his own way, trying the same experiment of life -which the great Russian was making?</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In the beginning, of course, it was inevitable that -Jones should have been called a Socialist. I suppose -he did not care much himself, but the Socialists -cared, and promptly disowned him, and were at one -with the capitalists in their hatred and abuse of -him. He shared, no doubt, the Socialists’ great -dream of an ordered society, though he would not -have ordered it by any kind of force or compulsion, -but in that spirit which they sneer at as mere sentimentalism. -He was patient with them; he saw their -point of view; he had, indeed, the immense advantage -of being in advance of them in his development. -He saw Socialism not, as most see it, from the hither -side, but from the farther side, as one who has passed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span> -through it; he was like a man who having left the -dusty highway and entered a wood which he thinks -his journey’s end, suddenly emerges and from a hill -beholds the illimitable prospect that lies beyond. Of -course he could never endure anything so doctrinaire -as Socialism, in the form in which he was accustomed -to see it exemplified in the Socialists about -him. He could not endure their orthodoxy, any more -than he could endure the orthodoxy they were contending -against. Their sectarianism was to him -quite as impossible as that sectarianism he had known -in other fields. Their bigotry was as bad as any. He -saw no good to come from a substitution of their -tyranny for any other of the many old tyrannies in -the world. And naturally to one of his spirit the -class hatred they were always inciting under the -name of class consciousness was as abhorrent to him -as all hatred was.</p> - -<p>Sometimes the Socialists, with their passion for -generalization, for labeling and pigeonholing everything -in the universe, said he was an anarchist. The -more charitable of them, wishing to sterilize the term -and rid it of its sinister implication, but still insistently -scientific, said he was a “philosophic” anarchist. -That is a term too vague to use, though in -one sense, I suppose, all good men are anarchists, -in that they would live their lives as well without -laws as with them. Jones himself would have scorned -those classifications as readily as he would had anyone -said he was a duke or an earl. “No title is -higher than Man,” he wrote once in a little campaign -song. And he was that—a Man.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>He would not join any society or, as he said, -“belong” to anything. I have thought so often of -what he said to a book agent one day. We were -just on the point of leaving the Mayor’s office for -luncheon, and the individual who wishes “just a -minute” was inevitably there, blocking the way out -of the office. He was indubitably a book agent; anyone -who has a rudimentary knowledge of human nature -can identify them at once, but this one had as -his insinuating disguise some position as a representative -of a Thomas Jefferson Memorial Association, -and he was there to confer on the Mayor the -honor of a membership in that society.</p> - -<p>“And what books am I required to buy?” asked -Jones.</p> - -<p>“Well,” the agent said, “you are not required -to buy any books, but, of course, a member of -the association would naturally want Mr. Jefferson’s -complete works.” Jones’s eyes were twinkling; -“Mr.” Jefferson amused him immensely, of -course.</p> - -<p>“They are very popular,” the man went on, “many -persons are buying them.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t find the ideas in them very popular; certainly -those in Mr. Jefferson’s greatest work are -not popular; no one wants to see them adopted.”</p> - -<p>“To which one of his works do you refer?” asked -the agent.</p> - -<p>“Why, the one that is best known,” said Jones, “its -title is ‘The Declaration of Independence.’ I already -have a copy of that.”</p> - -<p>The poor fellow was conscious that his enterprise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span> -was not going very well, but he said, with a flourish -of magnanimity:</p> - -<p>“Oh, well, it’s immaterial to me whether you take -the books or not, but of course you will wish to -belong to the association?”</p> - -<p>“But I already belong to the association in which -Mr. Jefferson was chiefly interested,” said Jones.</p> - -<p>“What is that, may I ask?” said the agent.</p> - -<p>“The United States of America,” said Jones, -“and as I am a member of that, I see no reason why -I should join anything smaller.”</p> - -<p>And then he laughed, and if there had been any -uneasiness because of his gentle guying, it disappeared -when he laid his hand on the agent’s shoulder -and looked into his eyes in that spirit of friendliness -which enveloped him like an aureole.</p> - -<p>He had a conception of unity that was far beyond -his contemporaries, a conception that will be -beyond humanity for many years. It was that conception -which enabled him to see through the vast -superstition of war, and the superstition of partizanship, -and all the other foolish credulities that -have misled the people in all times.</p> - -<p>One evening, it was just at dark, we were leaving -the mayor’s office to walk home—we walked home -together nearly every evening—and in the dusk a -tramp, a negro, came up and asked him for the price -of a night’s lodging. The Mayor fumbled in his -pockets, but he had no small change, he had only a -five-dollar bill, but he gave this to the tramp and -said:</p> - -<p>“Go get it changed, and bring it back.”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>The tramp took it and disappeared, and we -waited. Jones talked on about other things, but I -was interested in the tramp; my expectation of his -return was far more uncertain than Jones’s. But -after a while the tramp did come back, and he poured -out into the Mayor’s hand the change in silver coin. -The Mayor complained humanly of the heavy -silver which the Secretary of the Treasury always -sends out to us, so that the new one-dollar bills -may go to New York City, and tumbled the money -into his trousers pocket.</p> - -<p>“But ain’t you goin’ to count it?” asked the negro -in surprise.</p> - -<p>“Did you count it?” asked Jones.</p> - -<p>“Yes, suh, I counted it.”</p> - -<p>“Was it all there, wasn’t it all right?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, suh.”</p> - -<p>“Well, then, there’s no need for me to count it, -is there?”</p> - -<p>The negro looked in wide white-eyed surprise.</p> - -<p>“Did you take out what you wanted?” asked the -Mayor.</p> - -<p>“No, suh, I didn’t take any.”</p> - -<p>“Here, then,” said Jones, and he gave the man a -half-dollar and went on.</p> - -<p>There was no possible ostentation in this; it was -perfectly natural; he was doing such things every -hour of the day.</p> - -<p>He had no need to stop there, in the dark, to impress -me, his friend and intimate. I do him wrong -even to stoop to explain so much. But I wonder how -much good his confidence did that wandering outcast?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span> -How much good did it do to me? By the -operation of the same law which brought that vagrant -back to Jones’s side with all the money, I -with my distrust, might have been treated far differently.</p> - -<p>Or so, at least, it seems to me, and I tell this -incident as one which proves the reverence Jones -had for the great natural law of love. For the chief -count in the indictment respectability brought -against him was that he had no reverence for law. -To see and hear them when they said this, one would -have supposed that a council or legislature had never -been corrupted in the land. It used to amuse Jones -to reflect that his literal acceptance of the fundamental -principle of Christianity should have been -such a novel and unprecedented thing that it instantly -marked him out from all the other Christians -and made him famous in Christendom.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I say famous, and perhaps I mean only notorious, -for in the beginning many of his townsmen meant -it as a reflection, and not a tribute. Some of them -said it was but an advertising dodge, a bit of demagogism, -but as Jones applied the rule to everybody, -other explanations had soon to be adopted, and -after he had employed it about the City Hall for -two years the situation became so desperate that -something had to be done. Controversy was provoked, -and for almost a decade, Toledo presented<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span> -the unique spectacle of a modern city in which this -principle was discussed as though it were something -newly discovered. Some seemed to think that Jones -had invented it; they said it was absurd, that it -really would not work. Of course most regarded it, -as most now regard the Golden Rule, as a pretty -sentiment merely, something for the children in Sunday-school. -It is considered, of course, as any -sophisticated person knows, as altogether impractical, -and even silly and absurd.</p> - -<p>To be sure, the clergymen were under some sort -of professional necessity of treating it seriously, and -they used to prepare profound papers, arranged in -heads and subheads, with titles and subtitles, and -after all the usual ostentatious preliminary examination -of the grounds and the authorities, and with -the appearance of academic fairness, in discussions -that were formal, exact, redolent of the oil, bearing -the hallmark of the schools, they would show that -Jesus meant there were only certain exigencies in -which, and certain persons to whom, this rule was -to be applied. It was all very learned and impressive, -but one was apt to develop a disturbing doubt -as to whether one was of those to whom it was -to be applied. It was certainly not to be applied to -criminals, or perhaps even to politicians. It was not -to be applied to poor people, or to the working -people, unless they were in Sunday-school as conscious -inferiors, in devout and penitent attitudes. -And as these people were so seldom in church or -Sunday-school, and as those who were there apparently -needed no such consideration, these discourses<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> -left one rather uncertain as to what to do with the -Golden Rule.</p> - -<p>All men of course believe in the Golden Rule, or -say they do, but they believe in it only “up to a -certain point,” and with each individual this point -differs; the moment in which to abandon the Rule -and take to “the shotgun and the club” comes to -some soon, to others late, and to some oftener than -others; but to most, if not to all of us, it inevitably -arrives. That is why, no doubt, the world is no -farther along in the solution of the many distressing -problems it has on its mind.</p> - -<p>According to the standards of conduct and of -“honor” inherited from the feudal ages, while personal -violence may be conceded to be illegal, one is, -nevertheless, still generally taught that it is wrong -and unmanly not to resent an insult or an injury, by -violence, if necessary,—fighting and killing, by individuals, -states and nations, are thought to be not -only honorable and worthy, but, in many cases, indispensable. -Society has an obsession similar to that -strange superstition of the feud, which affects the -Kentucky mountaineers. Generally we are less -afraid to fight than we are not to fight. Our system -is based on force, our faith is placed in force, so that -nearly all of the proposals of reform, for the correction -of abuses, involve the use of violence in some -form. We have erected a huge idol in the figure of -the beadle, who, assisted by the constable, is to make -society over, to make men “good.” Jones came upon -the scene in America at a time when there was undoubtedly -a new and really splendid impetus toward<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span> -a better and higher conception of life and conduct, -both in public and private. Yet even then no other -thought seemed to possess the public mind than that -someone should be put in prison and made to suffer.</p> - -<p>Men did not and do not see what Jones saw so -much more clearly than any other reformer of his -time, namely that, above all the laws men make with -their political machines in their legislatures, there -is a higher law, and that the Golden Rule is a rule -of conduct deduced from that law. He saw that -men, whether they knew it or not, liked it or not, or -were conscious of it or not, had in all times been -living, and must forever go on living, under the principle -on which the Golden Rule is based. That is, -Jones saw that this great law had always existed -in the universe, just as the law of gravitation existed -before Newton discovered it. It is inherent in the -very constitution of things, as one of that body of -laws which govern the universe and always act and -react equally among men. And Jones felt that men -should for their comfort, if for no higher motive, -respect this law and get the best out of life by observing -it; and that it should be the business of men -through their governments to seek out this law and -the rules that might scientifically be deduced from -it, instead of putting their faith in their own contrivances -of statutes, resolutions, orders, and decrees, -and, when these would not work, trying to make them -effective through grand juries and petit juries, and -all the hideous machinery of jails and prisons, and -scaffolds and electric chairs. And because he had no -superstitious reverence for policemen or their clubs,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span> -or for soldiers and their bayonets and machine guns, -they said he had no reverence for law.</p> - -<p>He had, of course, been to the legislature; he -had seen the midnight sessions there, when statutes -were enacted amid scenes of drunken riot and confusion, -and he saw no reason why he should have reverence -for the acts of these men. Perhaps he was -wrong; I am only trying to tell how it appeared to -him. He was not a lawyer, but he knew what many -lawyers have never learned, that there is sometimes -a vast difference between a statute and a law. He -saw that not all statutes are laws; that they are laws -only when, by accident or design, they are in conformity -with those rules by which the universe is -governed, whether in the physical or the spiritual -world, and these laws, eternal and immutable, are -invariable, self-executing, instant in operation, without -judges to declare them, or executives to enforce -them, or courts to say whether they are unconstitutional -or not.</p> - -<p>He saw that the law on which the Golden Rule is -founded, the law of moral action and reaction, is the -one most generally ignored. Its principle he felt to -be always at work, so that men lived by it whether -they wished to or not, whether they knew it or not. -According to this law, hate breeds hate and love produces -love in return; and all force begets resistance, -and the result is the general disorder and anarchy -in which we live so much of the time.</p> - -<p>It may be that in this view of life some dangerous -apothegms are involved; as we grow older we grow -conservative, and conservatism is a kind of cynicism,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span> -a kind of fear, the trembling distrust of age. But I -know that in the life concept to which Jones came -in his study of this principle, every act of his life, -no matter how trifling and insignificant it may have -seemed, suddenly took on a vast and vital significance; -so that the hasty glance, the unkind word, -the very spirit in which a thing is said or done, were -seen to have an effect which may reach farther than -the imagination can go, an effect not only on one’s -own life and character, but on the lives and characters -of all those about him. He was always human; -I say that to prevent any impression that he was -solemn or priggish; he deliberately took up smoking, -for instance, toward the end of his days, because, he -said with a chuckle, one must have some vices. And -sometimes when the Golden Rule seemed not to -“work,” he would truly say it was only because he -didn’t know how to work it. And he used to quote -Walt Whitman:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The song is to the singer and comes back most to him;</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<div class="verse">The love is to the lover and comes back most to him;</div> -<div class="verse">The gift is to the giver, and comes back most to him—it cannot fail.</div> -</div></div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I first saw Tom Johnson in the early nineties in -Cleveland, at a Democratic state convention, where -one naturally might have expected to see him. I -had gone to Cleveland to report the convention for -the Chicago <i>Herald</i>, and since it was summer, and -summer in Ohio, it was a pleasant thing to be back -again among the Democrats of my own state, many -of whom I had known, some of whom I honored. -And that morning—I think it was the morning -after some frenzied members of the Hamilton county -delegation had been shooting at one another in -Banks Street in an effort to settle certain of those -differences in the science of statecraft which then -were apt, as they are now, to trouble the counsels -of the Cincinnati politicians—I was walking along -Superior Street when I heard a band playing the -sweet and somehow pathetic strains of “Home Again, -Home Again.” There were other bands playing that -morning, but the prevailing tune was “The Campbells -are Coming”; for we might as well have been -Scotchmen at the siege of Lucknow in Ohio during -those years that James E. Campbell was Governor -of our state. We grew to love the tune and we grew -to love him, he was so brilliant and human and affable; -but he could not pose very well in a frock coat, -and after he had been renominated at that very -convention, McKinley defeated him for governor.</p> - -<p>But as I was saying, it was not “The Campbells -are Coming” which the band was playing that morning,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span> -but “Home Again,” and along the wide street, -with an intimate sense of proprietorship that excluded -strangers from this particular demonstration, -people were saying:</p> - -<p>“It’s Tom Johnson, home from Europe!”</p> - -<p>It was his own employees who had gone forth to -meet him, the men who worked for him in the street -railway system he owned in Cleveland in those days, -and I thought it rather a pretty compliment that a -man’s employees should like him so well that they -would turn out to welcome him with a band when he -came home from his holiday abroad. I could understand -their feeling when an hour later I saw Tom -Johnson in the Hollenden Hotel, the center of a -group of political friends; he seemed as glad as any -of them to be back among so many Democrats. He -still had his youth, and there was in his manner a -peculiar, subtle charm, a gift with which the gods -are rather stingy among the sons of men. I can see -him now, his curly hair moist with the heat of the -summer day, his profile, clear enough for a Greek -coin, and the smile that never failed him, or failed -a situation, to the end. He was, I think, in Congress -in those days of which I am writing, or if he was -not, he went to Congress soon after from one of the -Cleveland districts. And while he was there he wrote -a remarkable letter in response to a communication -he had received from some girls who worked in a -cloak factory in Cleveland, asking him to vote -against the Wilson tariff bill when it was amended -by adding a specific duty to the <i>ad valorem</i> duty on -women’s cloaks. The girls, of course, poor things,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span> -had not written the communication; it was written -by the editor of a protectionist newspaper in Cleveland, -and the response which Johnson sent was one -of the simplest and clearest expositions of the evils -of protection I ever read. I had read it when it was -published, and had been delighted, but it was not -for a dozen years that I was able to tell Johnson -of my delight, and then one day as he and Dr. -Frederic C. Howe and I were at luncheon I spoke -of the letter. He laughed.</p> - -<p>“It was a great letter, wasn’t it?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Indeed it was,” I replied.</p> - -<p>“A wonderful letter,” he went on. “You know, it -completely shut them up around here. The editor of -that paper tried for weeks to reply to it, and then -he gave it up, and he told me privately some time -afterward that he was sure the theory of protection -was right, but that it wouldn’t work on women’s -cloaks. Yes, it was a great letter.” And then with -a sigh, he added: “I wish I could have written such -a letter. Henry George worked on that letter for -days and nights before we got it to suit us; I’d -think and think, and he’d write and write, and then -tear up what he had written, but finally we got it -down.”</p> - -<p>Henry George was the great influence in his life, -as he has been the influence in the lives of so many -in this world. Johnson had been a plutocrat; he had -made, or to use a distinction Golden Rule Jones used -to insist upon, he had “gathered,” by the time he was -thirty, an immense fortune, through legal privileges. -Johnson’s privileges had been tariffs on steel, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span> -street railway franchises in several cities, and thus -early in life he was almost ready for that most -squalid of all poverty, mere possession. And then -suddenly he had a marvelous experience, one that -comes to few men; he caught a vision of a new social -order.</p> - -<p>He was on a railway train going from Indianapolis -to New York, and the news agent on the train -importuned him to buy a novel. Johnson waved -him aside—I can imagine with what imperious impatience. -But this agent was not to be waved aside; -he persisted after the manner of his kind; he had -that weird occult power by which the book agent -weaves his spell and paralyses the will, even such a -superior will as Tom Johnson’s, and the agent sold -to him, not a novel, but Henry George’s “Social -Problems.” He was not given to reading; he read -only for information, and even then he usually had -someone else read to him. Once during his last illness -he asked me what I was reading, and I told him -Ferrero’s “Rome,” and tried to give him some notion -of Ferrero’s description of the political machine -which Cæsar and Pompey had organized, and of the -private fire department of Crassus, and he said: -“Well, I’ll have Newton read it to me.” He used to -wonder sometimes half wistfully, as though he were -missing some good in life, how it was that I loved -poetry so, and it was somehow consoling when Mr. -Richard McGhee, that fine Irish member of Parliament, -told me one night in the House of Commons -that when Johnson made that last journey to England -he had read Burns to him, and that Johnson<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span> -had loved and even recited certain passages from -them. Well then, Johnson bought his book, and idly -turning the pages began to read, became interested, -finally enthralled, and read on and on. Later he -bought “Progress and Poverty,” and as he read that -wonderful book, as there dawned upon his consciousness -the awful realization that notwithstanding all -the amazing progress mankind has made in the -world, poverty has kept even pace with it, stalking -ever at its side, that with all of man’s inventions, -labor-saving devices, and all that, there has been no -such amelioration of the human lot, no such improvement -in society as should have come from so much -effort and achievement, he had a spiritual awakening, -experienced within him something that was veritably, -as the Methodists would say, a “conversion.” -There was an instant revolution in his nature, or in -his purpose; he turned to confront life in an entirely -new attitude, and he began to have that which so -many, rich and poor, utterly lack, so many to whom -existence is but a meaningless confusion of the -senses, a life concept. And with this new concept -there came a new ideal.</p> - -<p>He at once sought out Henry George, the two -became fast friends, and the friendship lasted until -George’s dramatic death in the midst of his campaign -for the mayoralty of New York. George used -to do much of his work at the Johnson home in -Cleveland—and used to forget to fasten his collar -when he was called from that spell of concentration -over his desk to the dinner table. The Johnsons -were aristocrats from Kentucky, descended from a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> -long line of southern ancestors. And yet Tom -Johnson was a Democrat, from conviction and principle. -In fact it seems almost as though the cause -of democracy would never have got on at all if -now and then it had not had aristocrats to lead it, -as ever it has had, from the times of the Gracchi to -those of the Mirabeaus and the Lafayettes and the -Jeffersons.</p> - -<p>Tom Johnson made an instant impression when he -went into politics, and he went in on the explicit -advice of Henry George. When he arose in the -House of Representatives at Washington to make his -first speech, no one paid the least attention. It is, I -suppose, the most difficult place in the world to -speak, not so much because of the audience, but because -of the arrangement; that scattered expanse -of desks is not conducive to dramatic effect, or to -any focusing of interest. The British Parliament -is the only one in the world that is seated properly; -there the old form of the lists is maintained, opponents -meet literally face to face across that narrow -chamber. But when Johnson arose at Washington, -there were those scattered desks, and the members—lolling -at their desks, writing letters, reading newspapers, -clapping their hands for pages, gossiping, -sauntering about, arising and going out, giving no -heed whatever. But Tom Johnson had not spoken -many words before Tom Reed, then the leader on the -Republican side, suddenly looked up, listened, put -his hand behind his ear, and leaning forward intently -said: “Sh!” and thus brought his followers -to attention before the new and strong personality<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span> -whose power he had so instantly recognized.</p> - -<p>It was a power that was felt in that House. They -tried to shelve him; they put him on the committee -for the District of Columbia, and no shelf could -have pleased him more, or been better suited to his -peculiar genius, for it gave him a city to deal with. -The very first thing he did was to investigate the -revenues of the District, and he made a report on -the subject, based on the theories underlying the -proposition of the single tax. He tried to have the -single tax adopted for the District, and while he -failed in that design his report is a classic on the -whole subject of municipal taxation, even if, like -most classics, it is little read. He made some splendid -speeches, too, on the tariff, and by a clever device, -under the rule giving members leave to print -what no one is willing to hear, he contrived, with -the help of several colleagues, to distribute over the -land more than a million copies of Henry George’s -“Protection and Free Trade,” giving that work a -larger circulation than all the six best sellers among -the romantic novels.</p> - -<p>It is one of the peculiar weaknesses of our political -system that our strongest men cannot be kept -very long in Congress, and it was Johnson’s fate to -be defeated after his second term, but he then entered -a field of political activity which was not only thoroughly -congenial to him, but one in which for the -present the struggle for democracy must be carried -on. That field is the field of municipal politics which -he entered just at the time of the awakening which -marked the first decade of the new century.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When I think of the beginning of that period my -thought goes back to an afternoon in New York, -when, sitting in the editorial rooms of <i>McClure’s -Magazine</i>, Lincoln Steffens said to me:</p> - -<p>“I’m going to do a series of articles for the magazine -on municipal government.”</p> - -<p>“And what do you know about municipal government?” -I asked in the tone a man may adopt with -his friend.</p> - -<p>“Nothing,” he replied. “That’s why I’m going -to write about it.”</p> - -<p>We smiled in the pleasure we both had in his fun, -but we did not talk long about municipal government -as we were to do in the succeeding years; we had -more interesting subjects to discuss just then.</p> - -<p>I had been on a holiday to New England with my -friend John D. Barry, and had just come from -Maine where I had spent a week at Kittery Point, -in the delight of long summer afternoons in the company -of Mr. William Dean Howells, whom, indeed, in -my vast admiration, and I might say, my reverence -for him, I had gone there to see. He had introduced -me to Mark Twain, and I had come away with feelings -that were no less in intensity I am sure than -those with which Moses came down out of Mount -Horeb. And Steffens and I celebrated them and -their writings and that quality of right-mindedness -they both got into their writings, and we had our -joy in their perfect Americanism. The word had a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span> -definite meaning for us; it occurred to us at that -time because of some tremendous though unavailing -blows which Mark Twain had delivered against our -government’s policy in the Philippines, the time -falling in that era of khaki imperialism which opened -in this land with the Spanish war and too much -reading of Kipling, who, if I could bring myself to -think that literature has any influence in America, -might be said to have induced us to imitate England -in her colonial policy. There comes back the picture -of Mark Twain as he sat on the veranda of the -home he had that summer at Sewell’s Bridge, a cottage -on a hill all hidden among the pines; he sat -there in his picturesque costume of white trousers -and blue jacket, with his splendid plume of white -hair, and he smoked cigar after cigar—he was an -“end to end smoker” as George Ade says—and as -he sat and smoked he drawled a delightful monologue -about some of his experiences with apparitions and -telepathy and that weird sort of thing; he said they -were not to be published during his life, and since -his death I have been waiting to see them in print. -He had just been made a Doctor of Laws by some -university in June of that year, a distinguishing fact -known to a caller from the fashionable resort of -York near by, who, though somewhat hazy as to -Mark Twain’s performances in literature, nevertheless -scrupulously addressed him as “Doctor,” and -every time he was thus recognized in his new and -scholarly dignity, he winked at us from under his -shaggy brows. Perhaps that was part of his Americanism, -too, unless it were a part of that universality<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span> -which made him the great humorist he was, and philosopher, -too; an universality that makes Mr. Howells -a humorist as well as a novelist and a philosopher—the -elements are scarcely inseparable—though -Mr. Howells’s humor is of a more delicate -quality than that of his great friend, and, as one -might say, colleague, a quality so rare and delicate -and delightful that some folk seem to miss it altogether. -Perhaps it was the Americanism of these -two great men and their democracy that have won -them such recognition in Europe, where they have -represented the best that is in us.</p> - -<p>I speak of their democracy for the purpose of -likening it in its very essence to that of Golden -Rule Jones and of Johnson, too, and of all the others -who have struggled in the human cause. We owe -Mr. Howells especially a debt in this land. He -jeopardized his standing as an artist, perhaps, by -his polemics in the cause of realism in the literary -art, but he was the first to look about him and -recognize his own land and his own people in his -fiction; that is why it is so very much the life of our -land as we know it, and to me there came long ago -a wonderful and consoling lesson, when in reading -after him, and after Tolstoy and Tourgenieff, and -Flaubert, and Zola, and Valdez, and Thomas Hardy, -I discovered that people are all alike, and like all -those about us in every essential.</p> - -<p>Lincoln Steffens did not miss the humor in Mr. -Howells’s writing, because he could not miss the -humor in anything, though there was not so much -humor perhaps in another writer whom we had just<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span> -then discovered and were celebrating that day in the -joy of our discovery. It was to me a discovery of -the greatest charm, a charm that lasts to this day -in everything the man has written, that charm of the -sea and of ships, the romance and poetry of it all -which I had felt ever since as a boy I found a noble -friend in Gus Wright, an old sailor whose name I -cannot speak even now without a quickening of the -spirit because of the glamour that invested him when -I sat and looked at him and realized that he had -hunted whales in the South Pacific and had sailed the -Seven Seas. I wish I had written him into the first -of these papers, where he belongs; he made two miniature -vessels for me, one a full rigged ship, the other -a bark—dismantled now, both of them, alas, and -long since out of commission....</p> - -<p>“You go down to the wharves along the East -River,” Steffens was saying, “and you’ll see a ship -come in, and after she has been made fast to her -wharf, an old man will come out of the cabin, light -his pipe, and lean over the taffrail; he’ll have a -brown, weather-beaten face, and as he leans there -smoking slowly and peacefully, his voyage done, his -eye roving calmly about here and there, you’ll look -at him, and say to yourself, ‘Those eyes have seen -everything in this world!’”</p> - -<p>It was a rather big thought when you dwelt on it.</p> - -<p>“He’s seen everything in the world,” Steffens went -on, “but he can’t tell what he’s seen. Now Conrad -has those eyes, he has seen everything, and he can -tell it.”</p> - -<p>It was Joseph Conrad, of course, of whom we were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span> -talking, the great Pole who even then had come to -a mastery of our language that might shame most -of his contemporary writers in it. I would not give -“Lord Jim” for all the other sea stories that were -ever written, not even if all the novels of Cooper -and Scott and Stevenson and Dickens were thrown -in. For Joseph Conrad can see all that the old sailor -Steffens was imagining that day could see, and far -more besides; he can see into the human soul. He -had not written “Lord Jim” at that time, or if he -had, I had not read it, nor had Steffens written his -books about municipal government, to get back to -the subject; too often, I fear, have I been thinking -about some book of Joseph Conrad when I should -have been thinking of municipal government.</p> - -<p>I did not know much about municipal government -in those days, except what I had learned in Jones’s -campaigns and that theoretical knowledge I had -obtained in the courts as his attorney, and I had, I -fear, the same indifference to the subject most of -our citizens have. I should have preferred any time -to talk about literature and I should prefer to do so -now, since that is really so much more interesting -and important. But the fact that we knew nothing -about it in those days was not unusual; nobody knew -much about it except that Mr. James Bryce had -said that it was the most conspicuous failure of the -American Commonwealth, and we quoted this observation -so often that one might have supposed we -were proud of the distinction. Certainly few in -America in those days understood the subject in the -sense in which it is understood in some of the British<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span> -cities, like Glasgow, for instance, whose municipal -democracy is so far ahead of ours, or in the German -cities where municipal administration is veritably a -science. But in Steffens’s case a lack of knowledge -was in itself a qualification, since he had eyes, like -the old sailor, and, like Joseph Conrad, the power to -tell what he saw. That is, Steffens had vision, imagination, -and if the history of the city in America -is ever written he will fill a large place on its page.</p> - -<p>I marvel when I reflect that he could see so clearly -what most had not even the sensitiveness to feel. He -went at his task quite in the scientific spirit, isolating -first that elementary germ or microbe, the partizan, -the man who always voted the straight ticket -in municipal elections, the most virulent organism -that ever infested the body politic and as unconscious -of its toxic power as the bacillus of yellow -fever. Then he discovered the foul culture this organism -blindly breeds—the political machine, with -its boss. But he went on and his quest led him to the -public service corporation, the street railway company, -the gas company, the electricity company, and -then his trail led him out into the state, and he produced -a series of studies of politics in the American -cities which has never been equaled, and so had a -noble and splendid part in the great awakening of -our time.</p> - -<p>As long as his writings exposed only the low and -the vulgar politicians, ward heelers and bosses, and -the like, he was quite popular; I believe he was even -asked to deliver addresses before clubs of the <i>dilettante</i>, -and even in churches, for the righteous were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span> -terrible in their wrath. But when he went more -deeply, when he exposed the respectable connections -of the machine politicians, some of his admirers fell -away, and stood afar off, like certain disciples of -old. The citizen was delighted when some city other -than his own was under the scrutiny of the sharp -eyes that gleamed behind those round glasses, but -when he drew near for a local study, there was an -uplifting of the hands in pious horror. Cincinnati -applauded the exposure of Minneapolis, and St. -Louis was pleased to have Philadelphia reformed. -Reform is popular so long as someone else is to be -reformed.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Steffens came to Toledo occasionally, and I recall -an evening when we sat in my library and he told -me of a certain editor with whom he had been talking; -the editor had been praising his work with a -fervor that filled Steffens with despair.</p> - -<p>“Must I write up every city in the United States -before they will see?” he said. “If I were to do -Toledo, how that chap would berate me!”</p> - -<p>He came to Toledo early in his investigations, and -I took him to see Jones, and as we left the City -Hall in the late afternoon of that spring day, Steffens -was somehow depressed; we had walked a block -in St. Clair Street in silence when he said:</p> - -<p>“Why, that man’s program will take a thousand -years!”</p> - -<p>It did seem long to wait. There was a time when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> -I thought it might be done in a shorter period, but I -have found myself under the necessity of extending -the term from time to time. I fear now that Steffens’s -estimate of the length of Jones’s program -was rather short, but I know of no other way that -the program can be carried out. Steffens himself -is not so impatient now; he learned much more about -our cities than he ever wrote or dared to write, much -no doubt that he could not write. Great as was -the data he collected, before all the conclusions -could be drawn, all the general rules deduced, it -would be necessary to have the data of all life, of -which the cities are microcosms. The subject, after -all, is rather large.</p> - -<p>But to some it seemed simple enough; were there -not policemen patroling their beats ready to arrest -the bad people? Thus in the early days of the -awakening in America impatience took on the form it -always takes with us, and men flew to the old idols -of our race, the constable and the policeman; someone -must be hounded down, someone must be put in -prison. This was the form which the awakening -took in many places, and many reputations were -built up in that wretched work, and perhaps the -inadequacy of the work is best demonstrated by the -instability of the reputations. I suppose that such -efforts do accomplish something, even though it be -at such fearful cost; they may educate some, but -mostly they seem to me to gratify a taste for cheap -sensation and reward that prurient curiosity which -has always made the contemplation of sin so very -fascinating to our race. The reformer was abroad,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span> -seeking to make mankind over, but since he has no -model more attractive than himself to offer, his work -never goes very far, and he returns to his warfare -on the cigarette, or in moments of greater courage, -on the poor girl whose figure flits by in the darkness, -followed by the reformer’s devouring eye.</p> - -<p>But Steffens did not write us up, as the reporters -phrase it. I think Jones perplexed him in those first -days, though he knows now that Jones was wholly -and I had almost said solely right. Jones indeed -perplexed most of us. A man with a program of a -thousand years could not be expected to interest so -vitally our impatient democracy, as would one with -a program so speedy and simple that it involved -nothing more complex than putting all the bad people -in jail; and there was always someone ready -to point out the bad people, so that it seemed simple, -as well it might to those who had forgotten -that even that program is six thousand years old, -at least, according to Archbishop Ussher’s chronology. -Steffens, however, was seeking types and in -the two leading cities of Ohio he found them so -perfect that he need never have gone further—had it -not been for people like that fellow citizen of ours -who filled Steffens with such despair. But while he -was gathering his data on Cincinnati and on Cleveland -he came to see us often, to our delight, and continued -to come, so that he knew our city and our -politics almost better than we knew them ourselves. -He went to Cleveland, I remember, with some distinct -prejudice against Tom Johnson; the prejudice -so easily imbibed in gentlemen’s clubs. But I was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span> -delighted when, after his investigation, he wrote that -story in <i>McClure’s</i> which characterized Tom Johnson -as the best mayor of the best governed city in -the United States. I was delighted because I was -flattered in my own opinion, because I was fond of -Tom Johnson, and because it appeared just in the -nick of time to turn the tide in Johnson’s third -campaign.</p> - -<p>Jones was delighted, too; he had said almost immediately -after Johnson became mayor of Cleveland -that he “loved him” because, in appointing the -Reverend Harris R. Cooley as Director of Charities -and Corrections, Johnson selected a man who began -at once to parole prisoners from the workhouse, and -Jones and Johnson became friends as Johnson and -Pingree had been friends. It was a peculiar instance -of the whimsical and profligate generosity of the -fates that the three cities grouped at the western -end of Lake Erie like those cities Walt Whitman -saw, or thought he saw, “as sisters with their arms -around each others’ necks” should have had about -the same time three such mayors as Pingree in Detroit, -Johnson in Cleveland and Jones in Toledo, -though the three men were different in everything -except their democracy.</p> - -<p>Johnson’s success in Cleveland, obtained nominally -as a Democrat, though in his campaign he was as -non-partizan as Jones himself, made him the “logical” -candidate of the Democrats in the state for -governor, and when he was nominated for that office -he burst upon the old Republican state like a new -planet flaming in the heavens. Many of the Democrats<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span> -found that he was entirely too logical in his -democracy, since he was as like as not to denounce a -Democratic office holder as any other. He went forth -to his campaign that year in his big French touring -car, a way entirely new to us, and in the car he went -from town to town, holding his immense meetings in -a circus tent which was taken down and sent on -ahead each night. In this way he was entirely independent -of local committees, and they did not like -that very well; it had been his wealth more than his -democracy that had made him seem so logical as a -candidate to some of the Democrats. Such a spectacle -had not been seen on our country roads as -that great touring car made; it was a red car, and -the newspapers called it “the red devil”; sometimes -they were willing to apply the epithet to its occupant. -It was inevitable, of course, that provincialism -should criticize him for having bought his car -in France instead of the home market, and I shall -never forget, so irresistible in retort was he, the instant -reply he made:</p> - -<p>“That complaint comes in very bad grace from -you protectionists. I bought my car in France it is -true and paid $5,000 for it, but I paid you $3,000 -more in tariff duties to let me bring it home. You -made me pay for it twice and I think I own it now.”</p> - -<p>Few have ever been vilified or abused as Johnson -was abused in our state that year; his red car might -have been a chariot of flame driven by an anarchist, -from the way some of the people talked. Strange, -inexplicable hatred in humanity for those who love -it most! Tom Johnson campaigned that year on a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span> -platform which demanded a two-cent-a-mile railway -fare and the taxation of railroad property at something -like its value, or at least, he said the railroads -should pay in taxes as much, relatively, as a man -paid on his home; the poor man was paying on more -than a sixty per cent. valuation while the railways -were valued at eighteen or twenty per cent. This -was dangerous, even revolutionary doctrine, of -course, and Johnson was a single-taxer, supposed -in Ohio to be a method of taxation whereby everybody -would be relieved of taxation except the farmers -who were to be taxed according to the superficial -area of their farms. And of course Johnson -was defeated, and yet within two years the legislature -enacted the first of these proposals into law -with but one dissenting vote. Thus heresy becomes -orthodoxy. The proposal for taxation reform still -waits, and will wait, I fancy, for years, since it is so -fundamental, and mankind never attacks fundamental -problems until it has exhausted all the superficial -ones. And yet, while many other changes he -contended for in his day have been made, while many -of his heresies have become orthodoxies, the fear of -him possessed the rural mind in the legislature until -his death, and almost any measure could be defeated -by merely uttering the formula “Tom Johnson.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>One remembers one’s friends in various attitudes, -and I see Tom Johnson now standing on the platform<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span> -in the old tent, under the flaring lights, with -the eager crowd before him—there were never such -intelligent audiences to speak to as those in Cleveland, -unless it were those in Toledo—and he was at -his best when the crowd was heckling him. He was -like Severus Cassius, who, as Montaigne says, “spoke -best extempore, and stood more obliged to fortune -than his own diligence; it was an advantage to him -to be interrupted in speaking, and his adversaries -were afraid to nettle him, lest his anger redouble his -eloquence.” He voluntarily introduced the custom of -heckling so prevalent in England and Scotland, because -at first he was not a proficient speaker; he was -so simple, so direct, so positive, that he could state -his position in a very few words. Thus, as he told -me once, his speeches were too short for the customary -political meeting in a state where political oratory -flowed on and on indefinitely, and he asked the -crowd to put questions to him. This stirred him up, -put him on his mettle, stimulated his thought, and he -was best at this short range. And no one ever got -the better of him. Once an opponent triumphantly -demanded, in a campaign in which Johnson’s administration -was charged with extravagance:</p> - -<p>“Mr. Johnson, is it not a fact that under your -administration the Cleveland workhouse has lost -money?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir,” the Mayor replied promptly.</p> - -<p>“How do you explain that?”</p> - -<p>“We are not trying to make money in the Cleveland -workhouse,” the Mayor replied instantly, “we -are trying to make MEN!”</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>Or again I see him, superintending the tearing up -of street railway tracks, on streets where the franchises -of the private company had expired, to make -room for the rails of the city company, calmly -smoking a cigar, and with a gesture of his expressive -delicate white hand waving aside the latest of the -many injunctions that were sued out against him. -The battle was never lost to him, though his followers -were often discouraged. He might have said -of court injunctions as Napoleon said of bullets at -the battle of Krasnoi:</p> - -<p>“Bah! They have been whistling about our legs -these forty years!”</p> - -<p>But I see him best I think in the great hall of his -home in Euclid Avenue, one short, fat leg tucked comfortably -under him, his cigar in his aristocratic -hand, his friends and admirers about him. It was a -remarkable coterie of brilliant young men. One of -them had been originally an opponent, one of those -who heckled him in the tent, a fiery young radical -not long since a blacklisted mechanic who had gone -hungry when on strike, Peter Witt, one of the most -picturesque personalities in Ohio politics; he became -one of Johnson’s intimate friends and strongest supporters, -and a splendid speaker on the stump. He -was city clerk of Cleveland under all the Johnson -administrations and is now the street railway commissioner -of that city under Mayor Newton D. -Baker, who, as city solicitor, was another of the -group of those happy days. Mr. Baker was like a -boy in appearance, with his sensitive face and the -ideals of a poet, and a brilliant lawyer. He carried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span> -all the legal burden of the long street railway controversy -in Cleveland,—it was almost a civil war—and -did it all with such skill and ability, and withal with -such grace and courtesy and good nature that he -never offended his opponents, who were the leading -corporation lawyers of the city. Frederic C. Howe -had been elected to the council in Cleveland as a -Republican from one of the most aristocratic wards, -but he was won over by Johnson’s personality, was -renominated by Johnson on the Democratic ticket, -afterwards sent to the state senate and became one -of the foremost men in the liberal movement in -America; his books on municipal government are -authorities. And Dr. Cooley; he was a Disciple -preacher, and Johnson placed him at the head of the -department of charities and corrections, so that, as -Johnson used to say, instead of a preacher Dr. -Cooley became a minister. It was delightful to be -with them in those gatherings. The genuine reform -of conditions in that city possessed them all like a -passion; they were stimulated by a common ambition, -which was, as Johnson used to say, to make -Cleveland a city set on a hill, and though he was not -a poet nor a maker of phrases everyone instinctively -knew what he meant when he spoke of his city set -on a hill. I do not know how much of history he -had read, but he knew intuitively that the city in -all ages has been the outpost of civilization, and -that if the problem of democracy is to be solved -at all it is to be solved first in the city. That was -why he struggled for the free city, struggled to make -the city democratic; he knew that the cure for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> -ills of democracy is not less democracy, as so many -were always preaching, but more democracy. And -how delighted he was when Fred Howe brought out -his book “The City the Hope of Democracy.” He -had the joy of seeing marshaled there in the thesis -of a scholar all the arguments he had apprehended -but had never reduced to terms; there they were, all -in their logical order—and Johnson straightway -sent a copy of the book to every member of the -Ohio legislature, to their amazement no doubt, if not -to their amusement.</p> - -<p>I used to like to go over to Cleveland and meet -that charming group Johnson had gathered about -him. There was in them a spirit I never saw in such -fullness elsewhere; they were all working for the -city, they thought only of the success of the whole. -They had the city sense, a love of their town like -that love which undergraduates have for their university, -the <i>esprit de corps</i> of the crack regiment.</p> - -<p>But Johnson used to set me to work with the -rest of them. I went over there once to spend the -week’s end, for rest and relaxation, and he had me -working far into three nights on amendments to the -municipal code. He had terrible energy, but it was -a joy to work with him. I wish I had gone oftener.</p> - -<p>I have said enough I hope to make it clear that -Tom Johnson was one of those mortals who have -somehow been lifted above their fellows far enough -to catch a vision of the social order which people -generally as yet do not see. It was inevitable, of -course, that such a man, especially since he was a -rich man, should have his motives impugned, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span> -I recall now with what a confidential chuckle he said -to me one time when he had been accused of I know -not what vaulting and wicked ambition:</p> - -<p>“I am politically ambitious; I have just one ambition; -I want to be the mayor of a free city, and if I -were, the very first thing I should do would be to -appoint a corps of assessors who couldn’t see a -building, or an improvement; they would assess for -taxation nothing but the value of the land, and we -would try out the single tax.”</p> - -<p>He did not realize that ambition of course; no -one ever realizes his ambition. But he did perhaps -more than any other man in America to make possible -the coming of the free city in this land.</p> - -<p>His struggle for three-cent railway fares in Cleveland, -which was but a roundabout method of securing -municipal ownership in a state where the legislature -in those days would not permit cities to own -their public utilities was his great work. He lived -to see that successful in a way, though not exactly -in the way he had expected; that is another irony -which the fates visit on the head of ambitious men.</p> - -<p>And yet that irony of the fates is not always, -after all, unkind. Somehow, after a while, in the -lengthened perspective, the broadened vision that -reveals a larger segment of the arc, the event is seen -in better proportion. It requires faith in one’s -cause to see this always, and Johnson always had -that faith. I shall not forget how when the people -at last voted against him, he still could smile, and -say to me: “The people are probably right.” It -was the last time I saw him. He was sick then, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span> -dying, and sadly changed; the hair that had been so -black and curly that summer morning long before, -had grown thin and white; the face, sadly lined with -weariness, was sublimated by a new expression. -There was the same courage in the classic profile, -and the old smile was there. He was writing his -memoirs with a courage as grim as that of General -Grant—and he had the equanimity of Antoninus -Pius. And on his countenance there was the expression -of a purified ideal. So he had won; his was the -victory after all.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The best of life, no doubt, is made up of memories, -as M. George Cain says, and perhaps that is -why I have lingered so long over these little incidents -of Sam Jones and Tom Johnson. I have told them -in no sort of related order; Jones died years before -Johnson; but somehow they seem to me to have appeared -simultaneously, like twin stars in our northern -sky, to have blazed a while and then gone out together. -Different as their personalities were, different -as two such great originals must have been, -they were one in ideal, and even in their last words -they expressed the vast toil and strain of the efforts -they put forth to attain it.</p> - -<p>“Was it worth while?” asked Tom Johnson of his -friend Newton Baker, a day or two before he died. -And Sam Jones on that last day turned to his sister -Nell, the noble spirit who had conducted the settlement -work at Golden Rule House, and said:</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>“‘He that endureth to the end——’ What does -it say?”</p> - -<p>She repeated the Scripture to him.</p> - -<p>“Say it in Welsh,” he said, his thought returning -in those ultimate moments to the speech they had -used as children. But before she could direct her -mind into the old sequences, the end had come.</p> - -<p>At least, there were those in town who thought it -was the end. The stock of the street railway company -went up twenty-four points the next morning, -and some brokers issued a letter saying now that -Jones had died the securities of that enterprise offered -a golden investment—about the most authentic -extant illustration, I suppose, of the utter contemptibility -of privilege in these states. The politicians -often had been heard to say that when Jones retired -the non-partizan movement in Toledo would come to -an end; in their professional analyses they had pronounced -it a personal following not governed by -principle, and that with the passing of the leader -it would disappear and the voters become tractable -and docile partizan automata again. And now that -Jones was dead and one of their organization, the -president of the council, was to succeed to the -mayor’s office, the hopes they had so long entertained -seemed at last on the point of realisation. Within a -few weeks, therefore, an ordinance granting the -street railway company a renewal of its rights was -passed by the council.</p> - -<p>Then, instantly, the old spirit flamed anew; there -were editorials, mass meetings, and all sorts of protest -against the action, and in response to this indignant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span> -public feeling, the acting mayor, Mr. Robert -H. Finch, very courageously vetoed the ordinance. -But the machine “had the votes,” and on the following -Monday night the council met to pass the ordinance -over the veto. The members of the Republican -organization were there, favored with seats in -the office of the city clerk; lobbyists and the legal -representatives of the street railway company were -there. The chamber was crowded; the hot air of the -small, low-ceiled room was charged with a nervous -tension; there was in it an eager expectant quality, -not unmixed with dread and fear and guilt. The -atmosphere was offensive to the moral sense—a condition -remarked in other halls in this land when -councils and legislatures have been about to take -action that was inimical to the public good.</p> - -<p>But the machine councilmen bore themselves -jauntily enough; the windows were open to the soft -night of the early autumn, and now and then some -one sauntered in nonchalance over to the windows, -and looked down into St. Clair Street, garish in the -white and brilliant light of the electric signs of -theaters, restaurants and saloons. The theater -crowds were already going by, but it was to be -noted that they loitered that evening, and were reënforced -by other saunterers, as though the entertainment -of the pavement might surpass that of the -painted scene within. And above all the noises of -the street, clanged the gongs of the street cars gliding -by, and, for the moment, as a dramatic center of -the scene, a squad of policemen was stationed in the -lobby of the council chamber.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>This nervous, sinister mood was somehow abroad in -the whole city that night. Mr. Negley D. Cochran -had written another editorial, published that evening -in heavy type, in the <i>News-Bee</i>, calling on the -citizens to come out and protect their rights in -the streets of their city, so that there were apprehensions -of all sorts of danger and disaster.</p> - -<p>The council proceeded with its business; the voice -of the reading clerk droned on in the resolutions -and ordinances that represented the normal municipal -activities of that hour, and then, suddenly, a -sound of a new and unaccustomed sort arose from -St. Clair Street, the sound of the tramp of marching -men. Those at the windows, looking out, saw a -strange spectacle—not without its menace; the -newspaper reporters, some of them, embellished their -reports with old phrases about faces blanching. -Perhaps they did; they might well have done so, for -the men came down St. Clair Street not as a mob; -they were silent, marching in column, by sets of -fours, with an orderly precision and a discipline -almost military. And at their head there was a man -whose square, broad shoulders and firm stride were -the last expression of determination. He wore a -slouch hat, under which his gray hair showed; his -closely trimmed beard was grizzled; he looked, as -many noted, not unlike the conventional portraits -of General Grant. The man was Mr. Johnson -Thurston, and he was as grim as General Grant, as -brave, as determined, and as cool. He was widely -known in Toledo as a lawyer, however, not as a -politician; he had never been in politics, indeed, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span> -he was in politics that night, surely, and destined -to remain in politics for years to come.</p> - -<p>He brought his column to a halt under the windows -of the council chamber. There was no room -in that small chamber for such a delegation, or -seemingly for any delegation of the people, however -small. Johnson Thurston’s son marched beside him -as an aide, bearing a soap box—the modern tribune -of our democracy—and he placed it on the pavement -for his father. A street car, just then halting, -clanged its gong for the throng to make way, -and at this perfect symbol of the foe they were -opposing, Johnson Thurston shook his fist, and -shouted:</p> - -<p>“Stand there! The people are attending to their -business to-night!”</p> - -<p>The street car stood, and Johnson Thurston -mounted his soap box, produced a paper and read -from it in a loud voice that section of the Constitution -in which the people retain to themselves the -right peaceably to assemble and petition for a -redress of grievances. And this done, he turned to -his followers, gave them a signal, and there went up -from their throats in perfect unison a mighty cry: -“Let the franchise alone!”</p> - -<p>Three times they voiced their imperative mandate, -and then, at a signal, they wheeled about, and -marched away in the excellent order in which they -had come. Such a demonstration, in the streets, at -night, before a legislative body, had it occurred in -a capital or in a metropolis, would have been historic. -As it was, the cry that went up from those<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span> -men was heard in the council chamber; and it was -destined to ring through the town for the better -part of a decade. The council did not pass -the ordinance over the Mayor’s veto; half an -hour later the councilmen were escorted from their -chamber by the police they had summoned; and a -sadly shaken body they were, poor fellows.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the men who had marched with Johnson -Thurston had retired to a vacant storeroom in -Superior Street, three blocks away, over the door -of which there was a canvas sign bearing the inscription -“<span class="smcap">Independent Headquarters</span>.” There -they had assembled and been drilled by Johnson -Thurston, as college men are drilled by a leader in -their yells, and with a solemn sense of civic duty they -had marched to the council chamber to save their -city from a quarter of a century more of shameful -vassalage to a privileged public utility corporation. -The threat of their presence had been sufficient, but -had that proved unavailing, they had provided other -resources. There had been all the while, from the -hour of the opening of the doors that night, twelve -men in the council chamber, armed with bombs, not -of dynamite or any such anarchist explosive, but -of asafœtida and sulphureted hydrogen and I know -not what other overpowering fumes and odors, confidently -relied upon to prevail against even so foul -a stench as that which a privileged plutocracy can -make in any of the halls of government when it has -determined to secure another lease of its tenure.</p> - -<p>At Independent Headquarters, then, that autumn, -political meetings were held, in which local affairs—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> -street-car situation especially and the relation -it bore to the machines of political parties—were -discussed. Because of those changes the legislature -was always making in the government of cities, three -councilman at large were to be elected. This was -in the year 1904, in the midst of a national campaign. -Roosevelt was running for president for his -second—or his first term, depending on the point -of view—and three of those men who had voted for -that street railway ordinance, and were ready to -vote to pass it over the mayor’s veto, were candidates -on the Republican ticket for councilmen at -large. The Independents who had marched with -Johnson Thurston determined to nominate a city -ticket, and they honored me by offering me the place -at the head of that ticket as their candidate for -councilman at large. I was writing another novel -just then and battling as usual against interruptions, -and so I begged off; it was not the campaign -I feared, but, as I told them, the fear that I should -be elected. We nominated a ticket, and went into -the campaign, speaking every night, and in November, -though Roosevelt carried the city by fifteen -thousand, our candidates for councilmen at large -were elected. Clearly, then, the non-partizan movement -had not wholly died with Golden Rule Jones; -his soul, like the soul of John Brown, was marching -on, and still somehow led by him, and inspired by -his spirit, there had sprung forth, like Greek soldiers -from the dragon’s teeth, in Toledo a democratic -municipal movement. First of all the cities -in America, she had taken the initial step in freeing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span> -herself, the step all cities in America must take if -they would free themselves from their masters—that -of non-partizan municipal elections.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The predilection of the Ohio man for politics, I -believe, is well known in this land, where it is generally -identified with a love for office. There is a -reproach implied in the reputation which we perhaps -deserve. An Ohio man goes into politics as -naturally as a Nova Scotian goes to sea, and yet -not all Nova Scotians go to sea. They all love the -sea perhaps, but they do not all care to become -sailors. And so with us Ohioans. We all love politics, -though fortunately we do not all care to hold -office, even if most people do smile indulgently when -the modest disinclination is expressed. Perhaps such -scepticism is quite natural in a land so saturated in -privilege that even office holding is regarded in that -light—or was until recently, for now a new conception -is expanding in the public consciousness and -there is hope that ere long public office will be regarded -as a responsibility. I was quite sure that -I did not care to be a councilman—that weekly -wrangle, by night, in a room choking with the fumes -of cheap tobacco, known as the session of the common -council, was far from my tastes. And when -the mayoralty was suggested to me I was quite as -certain that I did not wish that. For it was not -long after the death of Jones that it was suggested; -by Tom Johnson for one, who, in his blunt way, told<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span> -me that I should run for the place; and by Steffens, -who, just then in Cleveland, was writing the article -in which Tom Johnson was celebrated as “the best -mayor of the best governed city in America,” and -Steffens found time now and then to come over to -Toledo to see us. “And another thing,” he wrote to -me after one of these visits, “you’ll have to run for -mayor.” He reached this conclusion, I believe, by a -process of inversion. He had been talking with some -of the machine politicians, and it was their objection -to me as a candidate that caused him to see my duty -in that light. I was at one with them on that point, -at any rate; they could have been no more reluctant -to have me run than I myself was. Tom Johnson, -when the Democrats met in their state convention -at Columbus that year, might propose me for governor, -and the delegation of his county, Cuyahoga, -and the delegation from my own county of Lucas -vote for my nomination, but that stroke of political -lightning was easily arrested by rods that had been -more accurately and carefully adjusted, so that I -could take the manuscript of “The Turn of the Balance” -and go to Wequetonsing on the shores of Little -Traverse Bay, where the days are blue and gold, -and there is sparkling sunshine, and a golf links -where one may find happiness, if he is on his game, or -if he is not, consolation in that noble view from the -hill—the tee at the old fourth and the new twelfth -hole—when he may, if he wish, imagine himself in -Italy overlooking the Bay of Naples—which is no -more beautiful. Meredith Nicholson, a hale old -Hoosier friend, as James Whitcomb Riley used to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span> -phrase it, was there, too, near the spot where he -wrote that excellent novel, “The Main Chance,” and -in that country place with him and other charming -friends near by I spent the summer. But when I -came home in the autumn the campaign was already -on, and the Independents had all but nominated me -as their candidate for mayor.</p> - -<p>They were forced to make their nominations by -petition, and on the petitions proposing me for the -office there were many thousands of names, pages -that were stained with the grime and dust and grease -of factories and shops—a diploma in its way, which -might have made one proud, had not the prospect -been one to make one so very unhappy. For I -knew what the mayoralty had done to Jones. I had -come to realize in my association with him that there -is no position more difficult than that of the mayor -of a large city in the America of our times, for the -city is a kind of microcosm where are posited in -miniature all the problems of a democracy, and the -fact that they are in miniature only increases the -difficulty. My ambitions lay in another field, and -besides I had a feeling against it, dim and vague, -though since adequately expressed in one of those fine -generalizations which Señor Guglielmo Ferrero -makes on his brilliant page; “there is no sphere of -activity,” he says, writing of the perils of political -life, “which is so much at the mercy of unforeseen -accidents or where the effort put out is so incommensurable -with the result obtained.” It is, of course, -one of the privileges of the citizen in a democracy -to be “mentioned” for public office; if no one else<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span> -mentions him he can mention himself, and whenever -someone else does mention him there are many who -ascribe to his originality the credit for the suggestion.</p> - -<p>It seems difficult for our people to understand any -man who really does not desire public office in a -land where it has so long been regarded purely as -a privilege to be bestowed or a prize to be contested. -I suppose that even the blunt and grim old warrior -Sherman caused the people to smile when he said -that if nominated for the presidency he would not -accept and if elected he would not serve. They -wondered what he meant, and for a time it never occurred -to them that he meant just what he said.</p> - -<p>But the day came at last when I must decide, -and to a committee of the Independents I said that I -should give them an answer in the morning. I -thought it all over again in the watches of the night,—and -the unfinished manuscript on my library table—and -at last, since somebody had to do it, since -somebody had to point out at least the danger of -risking the community rights in the hands of a political -machine, I said I would accept. I suppose -that it is but an expression of that ironic mood in -which the Fates delight to deal with mortals that it -should be so easy to get that which one does not -want; the Independents insisted on my standing for -the office, but the only humor in that fact was just -then too grim for pleasure, though there is always a -compensation somewhere after all, and gloomy as I -was that morning at the prospect of the bitter campaign -and the difficulties that would follow if I were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span> -elected, I could laugh when “Dad” McCullough, the -old Scotsman whom we all loved for himself and for -his devotion to our movement, leaned forward in his -chair, stroked his whiskers in a mollifying way and, -as though he preferred even the other members of -his committee not to hear him, said:</p> - -<p>“Would it be out of place if I suggested that in -the campaign you bear down as lightly as possible -on the infirmities of the law?”</p> - -<p>His shrewd sense even then warned him of the -herring that would be drawn across the trail of -privilege as soon as we struck it!</p> - -<p>And he was right. We had not opened our campaign -at Golden Rule Hall, before privilege did -what it always does when it is pursued, it tried to -divert attention from itself by pointing out a smaller -evil. All the old and conventional complaints about -the morals of the city to which we had been used -in Jones’s campaigns were revived and repeated with -embellishments and improvements; no city was ever -reviled as was ours by those who had failed in their -efforts to control it and absorb the product of its -communal toil. My attitude, conceived by “Dad” -McCullough as “bearing down on the infirmities of -the law,” was now represented as evidence of an intention -to ignore the law, to enforce none of the -statutes, and it was predicted that the election of -the Independent ticket meant nothing but anarchy -and chaos.</p> - -<p>To this “moral” issue that had served for so -many years, the “good” people responded immediately, -as they always do, and with certain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span> -of the clergy to lead them rallied instantly about -the machine, and for six weeks reveled in an -inspection of all the city’s vices, and mouseled in -the slums and stews of the tenderloin for examples -of the depravity which they declared it was the purpose -and design of the Independents to intensify -and perpetuate. Their own candidate had been in -power for a year and a half and these conditions -had existed unmolested, but when some of our speakers -indicated this inconsistency in their attitude they -only raged the more.</p> - -<p>But notwithstanding all this, the issue was clear; -the machine had helped to make it clear, not only -by its long opposition to Jones, but more recently -by its efforts for the street railway company. It -was the old issue between privilege and democracy, -that has marked the cleavage in society in all ages. -The people were trying to take back their own government, -for the purpose, first, of preventing the -street railway company from securing another lease -of the city’s streets for a quarter of a century, by -which, incidentally, the company would realize profits -on about twenty-five million dollars of watered -stock. But the people were not to be deceived; they -were not to be turned off the trail so easily; and the -entire ticket was elected, so that at the beginning of -that new year the Independents were in control of -every branch of the government, not only in the city, -but in the county as well.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I have spoken of the Independents as though they -were an authentic political party, when it was one -of their basic principles to be no party at all. They -were Republicans and Democrats who, in the revelation -of Jones’s death, had come to see that it was -the partizan that was responsible for the evil political -machines in American cities; they saw that -by dividing themselves arbitrarily into parties, along -national lines, by voting, almost automatically, their -party tickets, ratifying nominations made for them -they knew not how, they were but delivering over -their city to the spoiler. As Republicans, proud -of the traditions of that party, they had voted -under the impression that they were voting for Lincoln; -as Democrats they thought they were voting -for Jefferson, or at least for Jackson, but they had -discovered that they had been voting principally for -the street railway company and the privileges allied -with it in interest.</p> - -<p>And more than all, they saw that in the amazing -superstition of party regularity by which the partizan -mind in that day was obsessed, they were voting -for these interests no matter which ticket they -supported, for the machine was not only partizan, it -was bipartizan, and the great conflict they waged -at the polls was the most absurd sham battle that -ever was fought. It seems almost incredible now -that men’s minds were ever so clouded, strange that -they did not earlier discover how absurd was a system<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> -which, in order to enable them the more readily -to subjugate themselves, actually printed little wood-cuts -of birds—roosters and eagles—at the heads of -the tickets, so that they might the more easily and -readily recognize their masters and deliver their suffrages -over to them. It is an absurdity that is -pretty well recognized in this country to-day, and -the principle of separating municipal politics from -national politics is all but established in law. Mr. -James Bryce had pointed it out long before, but -Jones seemed to be almost the first among us to -recognize it, and he probably had not read from -Mr. Bryce; he deduced the principle from his -own experience, and from his own consciousness, if -not his own conscience, perhaps he had some intimation -of it from the Genius of These States, whose -scornful laugh at that and other absurdities his -great exemplar Walt Whitman could hear, echoed as -from some mountain peak afar in the west. But it -was no laughing matter in Toledo in those days. -Men were accused of treason and sedition for deserting -their parties; it made little difference which -party a man belonged to; the insistence was on his -belonging to a party; any party would suffice.</p> - -<p>I have no intention, however, of discussing that -principle now, but it was the point from which we -had to start in our first campaign, the point from -which all cities will have to start if they wish to be -free. The task we faced was relatively greater than -that which Jones had faced; we had a full ticket in -the field, a candidate for every city office and a man -running for the council in every ward in town.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span> -Jones had run alone, and though he succeeded there -was always a council and a coterie of municipal officials -who represented the other interest in the community. -Of course he had made our work possible -by the labor he had done, great pioneer that he -was. He had been his own platform, as any candidate -after all must be, but with our large movement -it was necessary to reduce our principles to some -form and we tried to do this as simply as we could. -We put forth our belief that local affairs should -be separate from, and independent of, party politics, -and that public officers should be selected on -account of their honesty and efficiency, regardless -of political affiliations; that the people should be -more active in selecting their officials, and should -not allow an office-seeker to bring about his own -nomination; that the prices charged by public -service corporations should be regulated by the -council at stated intervals; and that all franchises -for public utilities should first be submitted to a -vote of the people, that the city should possess the -legal right to acquire and maintain any public utility, -when authorized so to do by direct vote of its -people, that every franchise granted to public service -corporations should contain an agreement that the -city might purchase and take over its property at a -fair price, whenever so voted by the people, and that -no street railway franchise should be extended or -granted, permitting more than three-cent fares, and -unless it includes provision for universal transfers, -satisfactory service, and reasonable compensation -for the use of bridges, and we demanded from the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span> -legislature home rule, the initiative and referendum -and the recall.</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was not such a little platform after -all, but big indeed, I think, when one comes to consider -its potentialities, and if anyone thinks it was -easy to put its principles into practice, let him -try it and see! It was drawn by that Johnson -Thurston of whom I spoke, and by Oren Dunham -and by Elisha B. Southard and others, citizens devoted -to their town, and already with a prescience -of the city spirit. They succeeded in compressing -into those few lines all we know or need to know -about municipal government, and ages hence our -cities will still be falling short of the ideal they expressed -on that little card. There were many who -went with us in that first campaign who did not see -all the implications of that statement of principles; -none of us saw all of them of course. The -movement had not only the strength but the weaknesses -of all so-called reform movements in their -initial stages. Those who were disappointed or -disaffected or dissatisfied for personal reasons with -the old party machines, no doubt found an opportunity -for expression of their not too lofty sentiments, -although later on when they saw that it was -merely a tendency toward democracy they fell away, -not because the movement had deserted its original -ideals but because they at last understood them.</p> - -<p>As I now look back on that first campaign, on the -experience I had so much dreaded, the perspective -has worked its magic, and the hardships and difficulties -have faded away, even, I hope, as its enmities<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span> -have faded away, though remembering Jones’s -admonition to “draw the sting” I tried to keep enmities -out of it. Since I could not bring myself -to discuss myself, I resolved not to discuss my opponents, -and I went through the campaign without -once mentioning the name of one of them—there -were four candidates for mayor against me—without -making one personal reference to them. And never -in any political campaign since have I attacked an -opponent. It was enough to discuss the principles -of our little platform; and the first task was to get -the electors to see the absurdity of their partizanship -and to make clear the necessity of having a -city government that represented the people or, -since that phrase is perhaps indefinite, one that did -not represent the privileged interests of the city.</p> - -<p>The campaign was like the old Jones campaigns, -though not altogether like them.</p> - -<p>The legislature, which is always interfering as -much as possible with the cities, had changed the -time of holding the municipal elections from the -spring to the autumn, one change wrought by a legislature -in cities that the people approved, since -instead of those raw spring winds we now have the -glorious weather the autumn usually brings us in -the lake regions, with a sparkling air and a warm -sun, and a long procession of golden days, on which -one really should be playing golf, if one could play -golf in the midst of a political campaign, which -one could not, since art and politics, or at least the -practice of them, are wholly incompatible.</p> - -<p>There was no old gray Molly to jog about from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span> -one meeting to another, and if there had been, she -could not have jogged fast enough for the necessities -of that hour; and we established new precedents -when Percy Jones, the son of the Golden Rule -Mayor, drove me about at furious speed in his big -touring car, the “Grey Ghost” the reporters called -it, and it streaked through the night, with its siren -singing, from place to place until I had spoken at -half a dozen meetings. Every day at noon it wheeled -up to the entrance of the factories and shops as the -men were coming out for their noon hour. And -such meetings I believe were never held anywhere; -there was an inspiration as the men crowded about -the car to hear the speeches; they were not politicians, -they were seeking nothing, they were interested -in their city; and in their faces, what is far -above any of these considerations, there was an eager -interest in life, perhaps a certain hunger of life -which in so many of them, such were the conditions -of their toil, was not satisfied.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>As I sat and looked out over the crowds that -poured from the shops and stood, sometimes for the -whole of the noon hour, in discomfort perhaps if -the wind was off the lake, and saw the veritable -hunger for life that was in their faces, a hunger -surely which no political or economic system, however -wise and perfect, could satisfy, I could not help -thinking that it was a pity the clergy did not understand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span> -these people better, for, after all, the message -of the Carpenter who came out of Nazareth was for -the workers and the poor, and He had passionately -thrown Himself on their side. It might have been -suggested to that pastor who complained bitterly -that his own pews were empty on Sunday evenings -while the streets outside his church were crowded -with people who for one evening at least were joyous -and free from care, that the Master whom he -served would have asked no better congregation than -they and no better auditorium than the street.</p> - -<p>But this pastor was used to making suggestions, -not to receiving them; he was not of a mind as open -as that one who actually came to me once to ask -me how he could get the workingmen to hear him -preach. He had not failed, he said, to go to them; -he had advertised on a placard hung at the entrance -of a factory where two thousand men were working -that on a Monday at noon he would speak to them. -They had known of him, for he had recently been -celebrated in the newspapers as having inaugurated -a crusade to close the cheap theaters, whose lurid -melodramas,—I believe lurid is the word in that connection -unless the melodramas are “novelized” and -sold for a dollar and a half,—he said, were detrimental -to morals, as no doubt they were. And so -when he appeared, punctually, on that Monday -noon, at the rendezvous appointed by his poster, -the workingmen were ready and, when he stood up -to preach to them, they received him with a deafening -din, made by pounding on pieces of metal they -had brought from the shop, so that the poor fellow<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span> -could not speak at all, and when, with roars of -awful laughter they unfurled some ribald banner -fresh from the paint shop of their establishment, -advising him to go to hell where he was always consigning -so many of his fellow human beings, he -went away quite broken-hearted. It was in that -mood and perhaps a little chastened by his experience -that he came to see me. I could agree with -him, of course, that the men had acted like the perfect -barbarians they could be at times, but there -was nothing I could do for him, nothing I could tell -him. I learned long ago that you cannot tell a man -anything unless he knows it already!</p> - -<p>And yet that preacher’s case was perfectly simple. -He had come to the city not long before, and -of course, had come from the country. His training -and his experience had all been rural, he knew -nothing whatever of the life of our cities or of their -problems; he thought only in agrarian sequences. -He had a little code of conduct consisting of a few -perfectly simple negatives, namely, men should not -use tobacco, or liquor, or attend theaters or circuses, -or play with colored cards, or violate (that is, -do anything pleasant on) the Sabbath day. And -whenever he saw people doing any of these things -it was his duty to dissuade them from doing them, -and if he could not dissuade them, then it was the -duty of the authorities to force the people to stop -doing these things by sending policemen after them. -Poverty was caused either by drink, or by idleness, -though usually by drink, and if the saloons were -closed, drinking would cease!</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>This was the man’s conception. Of the condition -of the workingmen in the cities he had literally no -notion. He knew they worked, and that working -made them tired, of course, just as it made farmers -tired. He saw no difference between the labor in -the agricultural field and that in the industrial field. -That men who had been shut up in dusty factories -for six days, working intently at whirling machines, -under the bulb of an electric light, felt, when they -came to the one day of rest, that they should like -to go outdoors and breathe the air, and have some relaxation, -some fun, had never occurred to him. That -they had to work so hard, too, that stimulants were -perhaps a necessity, never occurred to him, just as -it had never occurred to him that when one of these -workers left home there was no place for him to go -unless he went to a saloon, where there were light -and warmth and companionship, and, above all, liberty; -or to a cheap theatre or in the summer to a -baseball game. And he could not understand why -these men resented his suggestion that they give up -all these things, and instead do as farmers do on -Sunday, or as they pretend to do, that is, stay indoors, -or, if they do go out, go out to attend church.</p> - -<p>And what was most curious of all, he had not the -slightest notion of what we meant when we spoke of -the street railway problem. He knew, of course, -that it was proposed to reduce the fare a cent or -two cents, but that was not important; what were -two cents? That there was anything immoral in -watering stock, in seizing millions of the communal -value, had never occurred to him, and in the midst<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> -of all the complexities of city life he remained utterly -naïve, bound up in his little code, with not -the glimmer of a ray of light on social conditions -or problems, or of economics, or, in a word, of life. -To him there were no social problems that the Anti-Saloon -League could not solve in a week, if wicked -officials would only give them enough policemen and -a free rein to do it.</p> - -<p>And so he wondered why the workingmen would -not come to hear him preach, or at least would not -listen to him at the door of their shop!</p> - -<p>And most of the parsons in the town—at that -time, though it is not so any more, so rapidly have -changes come in our thought—were of this frame of -mind. Not one of them supported our cause; many -of them denounced it, and continued to denounce -it, for years. Now and then there was one who -might whisper to me privately that he understood -and favored our efforts, but not one ever spoke out -publicly, unless it were to denounce us. And several -times they attacked me in their prayers. For instance, -if—after I became mayor—I went to deliver -an address of welcome, and a preacher was -there to open the assembly with prayer, he sometimes -would take advantage of the situation and, in -the pretense of asking a blessing on the “chief magistrate -of our beloved city,” point out my short-comings -and read me a lecture on my duties with -his eyes shut and his hands folded. To that attack -it would have been necessary, I presume, though I -am not quite sure of the ecclesiastical etiquette, to -reply with my eyes shut and my hands folded, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span> -Jones had said: “When He was reviled, He reviled -not again,” and “He that endureth to the end.” It -seemed as good a plan as any. I never replied to -these or any other of their attacks. Some of the -leaders of our movement always insisted that the -preachers opposed us because they were influenced, -according to the historical precedents, by their economic -dependence on the privileged class. But if -that is true I am sure the influence was unconscious -in most cases, and that they simply did not understand. -They were all desperately sincere. That -was the chief difficulty with them.</p> - -<p>Indeed, I found it better never to reply to any -criticisms or attacks whatever. The philosophy of -that attitude has been pretty well set forth I think -by Emerson, though it has been so long since I have -read it that I do not now know in which of his essays -or his poems or his lectures he revealed it, though -probably it would be found in all three since, shrewd -Yankee that he was, he cast every thought he had -in three forms. Had he lived in our day he might -in addition have dramatized each one of them. But -from his advice never to apologize, one may proceed -to the virtue of never explaining. It saves an immense -amount of time and energy, for since a politician’s -enemies are legion, and are constantly increasing -in number, and can attack him, as it were, -in relays, he must have enormous energy if he is to -reply in detail to all of them; he will find himself -after a while more desperately involved than was the -man in Kipling’s story, who through the Indian Government -kept his enemy toiling night and day to answer<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span> -foolish questions about pigs, and, what was -worse, explaining his previous answers.</p> - -<p>Telling what one is going to do is equally as -foolish as explaining what one has done, or denying -what one has not done, and so promises could be -dispensed with as easily as retorts and explanations. -Long catalogues of promised prodigies and miracles -are of course absurd, and the bawling and blowing -politician (as Walt Whitman called him) can -make them as fluently in his evil cause as can the -purest of the reformers. I had been disgusted too -often with such performances to be able to enter -into competition of that sort, and so let our little -platform speak for itself and did not even promise -to be good. And the people understood.</p> - -<p>I have often heard men complain of the strain -and fatigue of political campaigning, and I sometimes -think much of their distress arises from the -fact that they campaign in ways that are not necessary, -if nothing more derogatory is to be said of -them. There is of course the fatigue that comes -of nervous strain and anxiety, and this is very great, -but the haggard visage and the husky voice are all -unnecessary. It is no wonder to be sure that some -men break down in campaigns, since their cause -is so bad that anyone might well be expected to -sicken in its advocacy, and in furthering it it is -perhaps inevitable that their efforts partake in a -measure of its corruption. There is no exercise that -is physically more beneficial than speaking, especially -speaking in the open air, provided one knows -how to use his voice and does not attempt to shout<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span> -up the wind; and two or three speeches at noon, just -before luncheon and four or five more in the evening -after dinner may be recommended as an excellent -course in physical culture, if when one is done one’s -speeches for the evening one will go home and, for -an hour, read, say “Huckleberry Finn” or “Tom -Sawyer” before he goes to bed. I can recommend -these two great American novels with entire confidence -in their power to refresh, and in their deep -and true and delightful philosophy to correct aberrations -in the point of view—of one’s self, in the -first place, and of some other things of much more -importance than one’s self. If the cause be one in -which one believes there is an incomparable exhilaration -in it all. And it was with some pride that I -came through that first campaign without having -lost either my temper or my voice.</p> - -<p>There must always remain the memory of those -throngs in the meetings, those workingmen who -came pouring out of the shops and factories at noon, -glad as school boys to be released for a little while -from toil, laughing, whistling, engaging in rude -pleasantries, jostling, teasing and joking each -other, and then, suddenly, pausing, gathering about -the motor car, drawing closer, pressing up to -the foot-board, and listening, with eager, intent -faces, in which there was such instant appreciation -of a joke, a pleasantry, anything to make them -laugh, and yet somehow the adumbration of a yearning -and a hope. Lyman Wachenheimer—who as -judge of the police court once had fined Jones for -contempt of court, but had come later to agree with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span> -him and now was candidate for prosecuting attorney -of the county—would stand up in the car, lean -over, and speak to them out of the splendid new -faith in democracy that had come to him, and the -rest of us in our turn would speak. We did not -ask them to vote for us; our message was at least -higher than that old foolish and selfish appeal. First -of all we wished them to vote for themselves, we -wished them to vote their own convictions, and not -merely to follow with the old partizan blindness the -boss or the employer or someone else who told -them how to vote. And all too soon for the orators -warming to their work—they must speak rapidly, -they must speak simply and come to the point, for -the demands of the street meeting are obdurate -and out under the open sky there is short shrift for -insincerity or any of the old pretense and buncombe—the -whistle blows, the men turn and scatter, the -crowd melts away, a few linger to the last minute -to catch the last word, and then they turn and run, -and as they go they lift high the perpendicular -hand—Walt Whitman’s sign of democracy.... -Do you know it? Sometimes one of the section gang -working on the railroad, pausing in his labor while -the Limited sweeps by, looks up and to the idle one -on the rear platform of the observation car, going -for his long holiday, he waves his hand in a gesture -instinct with grace and the sincere greeting of a -fellow human being, and perhaps because—alas!—the -moment of their swift and instantly passing communication -is isolated from all the complexities of -our civilized life, because it is to vanish too soon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span> -for the differences men have made between themselves -to assert their distinction, there is that one -instant of perfect understanding. Sometimes a man -in a boat sailing by will hail you with this gesture -from his passing craft; he is safe from long contact, -he can run a risk and for that little moment yield -to the adventure of picking up an acquaintance. -Sometimes it is the engineer of a locomotive leaning -out of his cab window, giving you perhaps a -droll wink, and there are tramps who from a box -car will exchange a friendly greeting. And I shall -never forget the little Irish sailor up on the boat -deck with whom I talked in the early darkness of an -autumn evening in the middle of the Atlantic, with -the appalling loneliness of the sea as night came -down to meet it in mystery, and the smoke from the -funnels trailed up off to the southwest on a rising -and sinister wind; he told me of his mother and his -uncle—“who makes his five guineas a week and -doesn’t know the taste of liquor”—and of his little -ambitions, and so, after a bit, of the mysteries of -life, with a perfect <i>camaraderie</i>, as we stood there -leaning over the rail, and then, suddenly, when we -parted, invested himself with a wholly different manner, -and touched his cap in a little salute and left me -to the inanities of the smoking-room.</p> - -<p>It was something like that, those intimacies, -vouchsafed for a moment in our early meetings, -whether those at noon or those at night, in the suffocating -little halls, or the cold tent, with the torches -tossing their flames in your eyes as you spoke, and -it was even that way in those curious meetings down<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span> -in the darker quarter of the town, where the waste of -the city lifted up faces that were seared and scarred -with the appalling catastrophes of the soul that had -somehow befallen them, and there was unutterable -longing there.</p> - -<p>The one thing that marred these contacts was -not only that one was so powerless to help these men, -but that one stood before them in an attitude that -somehow suggested to them, inevitably, from long -habit and the pretense of men who sought power for -themselves, that one needed only to be placed in a -certain official relation to them, and to be addressed -by a certain title, to be able to help them. It was -enough to make one ashamed, almost enough to cause -one to prefer that they should vote for someone else, -and relieve one from this dreadful self-consciousness, -this dreadful responsibility.</p> - -<p>And these were the people! These were they who -had been so long proscribed and exploited; they -had borne a few of the favored of the fates on their -backs, and yet, bewildered, they were somehow expectant -of that good to come to them which had -been promised in the words and phrases by which -their very acquiescence and subjugation had so mysteriously -been wrought—“Life, liberty and the pursuit -of happiness.”</p> - -<p>Where? And for them, when? Not through the -efforts of those who employed cold phrases about -“good” government, and “reform,” and “business” -administrations, and efficiency methods, and enforcement -of the laws, and law and order, and all that -sort of thing, and class consciousness, and economic,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span> -or any other interpretation of history, or -through initiatives, referendums and recalls. What -good would any of these cold and precise formulæ -do them? Better perhaps the turkey at Thanksgiving, -and the goose at Christmas time which the -old machine councilman from the ward gave them; -of course they themselves paid for them, but they -did not know it, and the councilman did not know it; -he had bestowed them with the voice of kindness, -in the same hearty human spirit in which he came -to the wedding or the wake, or got the father a -job, or the oldest son a parole from the workhouse, -and rendered a thousand other little personal services. -Perhaps Bath House John and Hinky Dink -were more nearly right after all than the cold and -formal and precise gentleman who denounced their -records in the council. For they were human, and -the great problem is to make the government of a -city human.</p> - -<p>There were many, of course, even in our own -movement, who were not concerned about that; I was -strongly rebuked by one of them once in that very -first campaign for declaring that we were no better -than anyone else, and that all the “good” men of -the world could not do the people much good even if -they were elected to the city government for life. No, -we may have efficient governments in our cities, and -honest governments, as we are beginning to have -everywhere, and, happily, are more and more to -have, but the great emancipations will not come -through the formulæ of Independents, Socialists, or -single-taxers, nor through Law and Order Leagues,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> -nor Civic Associations. Down in their hearts these -are not what the people want. What they want is a -life that is fuller, more beautiful, more splendid and, -above all, more human. And nobody can prepare it -and hand it over to them. They must get it themselves; -it must come up through them and out of -them, through long and toilsome processes of development; -for such is democracy.</p> - -<p>“That man’s program will take a thousand -years!” Lincoln Steffens had said in despair that -day I introduced him to Jones. Yes—or a hundred -thousand. But there is no other way.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The most efficient executive of which there is any -record in history is clearly that little centurion -who could say: “For I also am a man set under -authority, having under me soldiers; and I say unto -one, go, and he goeth; and to another, come, and -he cometh; and to my servant, do this, and he doeth -it.”</p> - -<p>In my experience as an executive I learned that -it was easy to say “Go,” but that the fellows did not -go promptly; I could say “Come,” and he came—after -a while, perhaps, when I had said “Come” -again, and that sometimes, having said “Do this,” I -had to go myself and do it, or leave it undone.</p> - -<p>Executive ability is a mysterious quality inhering -in personality, and partaking of its mysteries.</p> - -<p>I had gone into the mayor’s office feeling that I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span> -was about the most ill-prepared man for such a job -in the town. Naturally I had turned to Tom Johnson, -who had a tremendous reputation as an executive; -even his worst enemy, as the saying is, would -not deny his wonderful executive ability. I went -to him in a sort of despair, and he laughed and -leaned over and whispered——</p> - -<p>But perhaps after all I should not tell. It was -spoken in confidence. And it is ungenerous and unkind -to destroy the cherished illusions of the world, -almost as unkind, I was about to say, as it is difficult, -since there is nothing the world so cherishes -and hugs to its sad old withered bosom as it does -its illusions. It may be that they are entirely necessary -to it, it may be that it could not get along -without them. What would this nation have done, -after all, if it had not been for executive ability and -the judicial temperament? The judicial temperament -consists, of course, in nothing more than the -calm assurance which enables one to put off till to-morrow -problems that should be decided to-day, for -if allowed to go long enough problems will solve -themselves, just as letters unanswered long enough -despatch their own replies.</p> - -<p>I had deduced that generalization for myself -long ago, while waiting for judges to hand down -opinions, and then in decisions reading the well-known -formula: “The court does not find it necessary -to pass on this particular point at this time.” -Why, I applied one time to the Supreme Court, on -a Wednesday morning, for a stay of execution on -behalf of a man who was to be burned alive in our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span> -electric chair on the following Friday, and the judicial -temperament who at that time happened to -be chief justice calmly said that the application -would be taken under advisement and a decision -handed down in due course, which, at the earliest, -was the following Tuesday morning. But the governor -half an hour afterward said, “Oh, well, don’t -worry; if the court doesn’t act, I’ll reprieve him,” -an example, perhaps, of what I had in mind when -I was writing those vague thoughts about making -government human. But executive ability! I had, -and still have, great admiration and reverence for -that——</p> - -<p>But Tom Johnson leaned over that afternoon, as -we sat there in the committee room of the House -at Columbus, and laughed and whispered:</p> - -<p>“It’s the simplest thing in the world; decide every -question quickly and be right half the time. And -get somebody who can do the work. That’s all -there is to executive ability.”</p> - -<p>I looked at him in amazement. He had grown -quite serious.</p> - -<p>“There’s another thing,” he added. “Don’t spend -too much time in your office. A quarter of an hour -each day is generally too long, unless there are a -whole lot of letters. Of course,” he went on reflectively, -“you can get clerks who can sign your name -better than you can.”</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The first thing was to get men who could do the -work, a difficulty made greater because we have been -accustomed to bestow public offices as rewards for political -service; the office is for the man, not the man -for the office. I had a friend, a young man, who had -never been in politics in his life, though he had been -born and reared in Ohio. He was of an old, wealthy -and aristocratic family, a graduate of an eastern -university. His name was Franklin Macomber. I -appointed him a member of the Board of Public -Safety—we still had the board plan of government -then—and the appointment to office of a young aristocrat -afforded the newspapers and cartoonists an -opportunity for ridicule which they did not overlook. -But I knew the boy. I had seen him play football, -for one thing, and I knew how he managed his -own business. The vigor and the nerve he had displayed -on the football field at once showed in his -duties, and the ability and devotion he displayed in -his own affairs he applied in the public service. The -criticism to which the administration was constantly -subjected distressed him; he heard so much of it at -the fashionable club where he had his luncheons. One -afternoon he came into City Hall with an expression -more somber than usual, and as he sat down in my -office he began:</p> - -<p>“They are saying——”</p> - -<p>“Who are saying?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“The people,” he replied.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>He had come, of course, from his luncheon at the -club. His motor car was at the door of the city -hall, and I asked him to take me for a drive, and -I suggested certain parts of town through which, -for a change, we might go. We ignored the avenues -and the boulevards, and for two hours drove about -through quiet streets far from the life of the town -as we knew it and as all men down in the business -section knew it—the old third ward, where the Poles -lived, and around to the upper end of the old seventh -where the shops and factories were, and then on over -through the eighth and the ninth, and so up to the -Hill, and after we had passed by all those blocks and -blocks of humble little homes, cottages of one story, -and all that, I asked him if he knew what the folk who -lived in them were saying about the administration.</p> - -<p>“Why, no,” he answered. “I never talk with any -of them.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” I ventured to say, “they are the people, -they who live in those little houses with the low -roofs. It is important to know how they feel, too.”</p> - -<p>I always felt that he had a new vision after that; -he saw that if government was to mean anything -to these persons, it must be made human, and the -reforms in the police and fire departments he -wrought out in that spirit were such that when he -died, in not quite four years, when he was just -turned thirty, the cartoonist had long since ceased -to caricature him as an idle fop, and the newspaper -editorials mourned him, in common with most of the -community, as one of the best public servants our -city, or any city, ever had.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I went into the mayor’s office, as I said, all unprepared. -My equipment was what the observations -of a political reporter, a young lawyer’s participation -in the politics of his state, and an intimacy with -Golden Rule Jones could make it. It was not much, -though it was as much perhaps as have most men -who become municipal officials in our land, where -in all branches of the civil service, training and experience, -when they are considered at all, seem to be -the last requisites. The condition I suppose is implicit -in democracy, which has the defects of its -own virtues, and founds its institutions in distrust. -They order these things better in Germany, by committing -the administration of municipal affairs to -trained men as to a learned profession, though the -German cities have the disadvantage of having so reformed -their civil service that it is a monstrous bureaucracy. -I had been chosen chiefly because I had -been the friend of my distinguished predecessor, and -for a long time I was so inveterately referred to as of -that honored relation, so invariably introduced as -the successor of Golden Rule Jones, that I was -haunted by the disquieting dread that I was expected -to be, if not a replica of him, at least some -sort of measurable imitation of his manners and -methods, the most impossible achievement in the -world, since his was a personality wholly original -and unique. And then besides, a man prefers to -be himself. But of all those, and they were many<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span> -and respectable, who doubted my ability, there was -none whose distrust could exceed my own. I knew -one thing, at any rate, and that was, that I did not -know.</p> - -<p>Aside from my political principles, which I presume -may as well be called liberal, and certain theories -which were called radical, though even then I -knew enough of human nature to know that they -could not be realized, especially in one small city -in the American Middle West, I had been able to -make, or at least to recognize when others made -them, as Mr. Bryce and most of the students of municipal -government in America had done, two or -three generalizations which, upon the whole, after -four terms in a mayor’s office testing them, I still believe -to be sound. The first was that, whatever the -mere form of local government, our cities were directly -ruled by those small coteries we had come to -call political machines; the second, that these machines -ruled the cities for the benefit of public utility -corporations; and the third, that the legal power -through which this was accomplished was derived -from legislatures controlled by the same persons in -the same interest. That is, the people had no voice -in their own affairs; representative government itself -had disappeared. Therefore these remedies -seemed to be indicated, as the doctors say—non-partizan -city elections, municipal ownership, and -home rule for cities. This was the task, this was -the program.</p> - -<p>We had already defeated the machines; Jones had -made that victory possible by his great pioneer work<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span> -in destroying the superstition of party regularity. -I say defeated the machines, when perhaps I should -say checked the machines, since the bosses remained -and the partizans who made them possible. And the -public utilities were in private hands, the street railway -company still was there, desperate because its -franchises were about to expire, and its securities, -through the financiering too familiar to America in -these latter days, six times the amount of its actual -investment. And down at Columbus, the legislature -still was sitting, controlled by rural members -who knew nothing of cities or of city life or city -problems, farmers and country lawyers and the politicians -of small towns, who, in the historic opposition -of the ruralite to the urbanite, could not -only favor their party confreres and conspirators -from the city—machine politicians to whom they -turned for advice—but gain a cheap <i>réclame</i> at home -by opposing every measure designed to set the cities -free. Thus the bosses in both parties, the machine -politicians, the corporations, and their lawyers, promoters, -lobbyists, kept editors, ward heelers, office -holders, spies, and parasites of every kind were lying -in wait on every hand. And besides, though inspired -by other motives, the “good” people were always -insisting on the “moral” issue; urging us to -turn aside from our larger immediate purpose, and -concentrate our official attention on the “bad” people—and -wreck our movement. Our immediate purpose -was to defeat the effort of the street railway -company to obtain a franchise, to prevent it from -performing the miracle of transmuting twenty-five<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> -millions in green paper into twenty-five millions in -gold, and thereby absorb the commercial values of -half a century. To do this it was necessary to win -elections for years, and to win elections, one must -have votes, and “bad” people have votes, equally -with “good” people, and if one is to judge from -the comment of the “good” people on the election returns, -the “bad” people in most cities are in the majority. -On that point, I believe, the reformers and -the politicians at least are agreed. More than this, -we had to obtain from reluctant legislatures the powers -that would put the city at least on equal terms -with the corporations which had always proved so -much more potent than the city. Such was the -struggle our movement faced, such was the victory to -be won before our city could be free from the triumvirate -that so long had exploited it, the political -boss, the franchise promoter, and the country politician. -The Free City! That was the noble dream.</p> - -<p>Well might the wise and sophisticated laugh at -their mayor and call him dreamer! It was, and, -alas, it is a dream. But youth is so sublimely confident, -and counts so little on opposition. Not the -opposition of those who array themselves against -it—that was to be expected, of course, that was -part of the glorious conflict—but the opposition -from within the ranks, the opposition on the hither -side of the barricade. For youth thinks, sometimes, -that even opponents may be won, if only they can -be brought to that vantage ground whence one inevitably -beholds the fair and radiant vision. It had -not expected the falling away of followers, of supporters,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span> -even of friends—the strangely averted eye -on the street, the suddenly abandoned weekly call, -the cessation of little notes of encouragement, the -amazing revelations of malignity and bitterness at -election times, and the flood increasing in volume at -each succeeding election. One man, thought to be -devoted to a cause, fails in his desire to secure an -office; another you refuse a contract; he whom you -neglected to favor in January punctually appears in -the opposition ranks in November, one by one they -drop away, and multiply into an army. Even in the -official group in the City Hall and in the council, -there are jealousies, and childish spites, and pitiable -little ambitions and with them misunderstanding, -gossip, slander, anonymous attacks, lies, abuse, -hatred, until youth makes the awful discovery that -there is, after all, in human nature, pure malice, -and youth must fight hard to retain its ideals, so -continually are all the old lovely illusions stripped -away in this bewildering complication of little tragedies -and comedies we call life.</p> - -<p>To be sure, youth might have known, having read -the like in books from infancy, and having made -some reflections of its own on the irony of things, -and indulged from time to time in philosophizings. -But that was about the experience of others, from -which none of us is wise enough to learn. Most of -us indeed are not wise enough to learn from our -own. It is all a part of life. What a thing human -life is, to be sure, and human nature! <i>Ay di mi!</i> -as Carlyle used to say. Patience, and shuffle the -cards!...</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>... I had no intention of recalling such things. -Did not Jones say that when the Golden Rule would -not work, it was not the fault of the Rule, but because -one did not quite know how to work it? I have -no intention of setting down the failures or the little -successes of four terms as mayor. Nor shall I write -a little history of those terms in office; I could not, -and it would not be worth while if I could. I shall -not attempt in these pages a treatise on municipal -government, for if the task were rightly executed, -it would be a history of civilization. Non-partizanship -in municipal elections, municipal ownership, -home rule for cities,—who is interested in these? I -have discussed them in interviews—(“Is there to be a -statement for us this morning, Mr. Mayor?”)—and -speeches numerous as autumn leaves, and like them, -lost now in the winds to which they were given.</p> - -<p>After all, it is life in which we are all interested. -And one sees a deal of life in a mayor’s office, and in -it one may learn to envisage it as—just life. Then -one can have a philosophy about it, though one cannot -discover a panacea, some sort of sociological -patent medicine to be administered to the community, -like Socialism, or Prohibition, or absolute law -enforcement, or the commission form of government. -One indeed may open one’s eyes and look at one’s -city and presently behold its vast antitheses, its -boulevards and marble palaces at one end, and its -slums, its tenements and tenderloins at the other. -He may discern there the operations of universal -and inexorable laws, and realize the tremendous conflict -that everywhere and in all times goes on between<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span> -privilege and the people. Such a view may -simplify life for him; it may make easy the peroration -to the campaign speech; it may provide a glib -and facile answer to any question. But he should -have a care lest it make him the slave of its own -<i>clichés</i>, as Socialists for instance, when they become -purely scientific, explain every human impulse, emotion -and deed by simply repeating the formula -“Economic determinism.”</p> - -<p>But it will not do; it will not suffice. This view -of life is simple only because it is narrow and confined; -in far perspectives there appear curious and -perplexing contradictions. And even then, the most -exhaustive analysis of life and of human society, -however immense and comprehensive, however logical -and inevitable its generalizations, must always -fall short simply because no human mind and no -assembly of human minds can ever wholly envisage -the vast and bewildering complexity of human life. -Each man views life from that angle where he happens -to have been placed by forces he cannot comprehend. -All of which no doubt is a mere repetition -in feebler terms of what has heretofore been spoken -of the inherent vice of the sectarian mind. There -are no rigid distinctions of good and bad, of proletarians -and capitalists, of privileged and proscribed; -there are just people, just folks, as Jones -said, with their human weaknesses, follies, and mistakes, -their petty ambitions, their miserable jealousies -and envies, their triumphs, and glories and -boundless dreams, and all tending somewhither, they -know not where nor how, and all pretty much alike.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span> -And government, be its form what it may, is but -the reflection of all these qualities. The city, said -Coriolanus, is the people, and as Jones used to say, -with those strange embracing gestures, “I believe in -<i>all</i> the people.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>However, all these confused elements make the -task of a mayor exceedingly difficult, especially in -America where there are, not so many kinds of -people, but so many different standards and customs -and habits. When one gets down into humanity, -one beholds not two classes, separate and distinct -as the sexes, but innumerable classes. In Toledo -something more than twenty languages and dialects -are spoken every day, and as the mayor is addressed -the chorus becomes a very babel, a confusion of -tongues, all counseling him to his duty. The result -is apt to be perplexing at times. The rights -of “business” in the streets and to the public property, -the proper bounds within which strikers and -strike breakers are to be confined, the limitations -of the activities of pickets, the hours in which it is -proper to drink beer, who in the community should -gamble, whether Irishmen or Germans make the -better policemen; the exact proportion of public -jobs which Poles and Hungarians should hold; -whether Socialists on their soap boxes are obstructing -traffic or merely exercising the constitutional -right of free speech, whether there are more Catholics -than Protestants holding office; whether the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span> -East Side is receiving its due consideration in comparison -with the West Side; whether boys have the -right to play ball in the streets, and lovers to spoon -in parks, and whose conceptions of morals is to prevail—these, -like the sins of the Psalmist, are ever -before him.</p> - -<p>And with it all there is a strange, inexplicable -belief in the almost supernatural power of a mayor. -I have been waited on by committees—of aged men—demanding -that I stop at once those lovers who -sought the public park on moonlit nights in June, -I have been roused from bed at two o’clock in the -morning, with a demand that a team of horses in -a barn four miles on the other side of town be fed; -innumerable ladies have appealed to me to compel -their husbands to show them more affectionate attention, -others have asked me to prohibit their -neighbors from talking about them. One Jewish -resident was so devout that he emigrated to Jerusalem, -and his family insisted that I recall him; a -Christian missionary asked me to detail policemen to -assist him in converting the Jews to his creed; and -pathetic mothers were ever imploring me to order -the release of their sons and husbands from prisons -and penitentiaries, over which I had no possible -jurisdiction. I have recalled I know not how many -times a remark Jones made one evening after one -of those weary days I afterward came to know so -well; “I could wash my hands every day in women’s -tears.”</p> - -<p>Of course, the main thing was not to wash one’s -hands of them or their difficulties. I remember one<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span> -poor soul whose husband was in the penitentiary. -She came to me in a despair that was almost frantic, -and showed me a letter she had received from -her husband. A new governor had been elected in -that state wherein he was imprisoned, and he urged -his wife, in the letter she gave me to read, to secure -a pardon for him before the new governor was inaugurated. -“They say,” he wrote, “that the new -governor is a good church member, which is a bad -sign for being good to prisoners.”</p> - -<p>Poor soul! It was impossible to explain to her -that I was wholly powerless. She stood and humbly -shook her sorrowful head, and to each new attempt -at explanation she said:</p> - -<p>“You are the father of all.”</p> - -<p>It was a phrase which most of the women of the -foreign born population employed; they repeated -it as though it were some charmed formula. This -exaggerated notion of the mayoral power was not -confined to those citizens of the foreign quarters; -it was shared by many of the native Americans, who -held the mayor responsible for all the vices of the -community, and I was never more sharply criticized -than when, in refusing to sanction the enactment of -a curfew ordinance, I tentatively advanced the suggestion -that, if it did not seem too outrageously -radical, the rearing and training of children was -the duty, not so much of the police as of parents, -pastors and teachers.</p> - -<p>It may have been because, in some way, it had got -abroad that I was a reformer myself. It was at a -time when there was new and searching inquiry, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span> -a new sense of public decency, the result of a profound -impulse in the public consciousness, and I -had been of those who in my town had opposed the -political machines. Constructive thinking and constructive -work being the hardest task in the world, -one of which our democracy in its present development -is not yet fully capable, the impulse spent itself -largely in destructive work. That was natural; it -is a quality inherent in humanity. My friend Kermode -F. Gill, the artist-builder and contractor of -Cleveland, once told me that while it is difficult to -get men to carry on any large construction, and -carry it on well, and necessary to set task masters -over them to have the work done at all, there is -a wholly different spirit in evidence when the work -is one of demolition. If a great building is to -be torn down, the men need no task masters, no -speeding up, they fly at it in a perfect frenzy, with -a veritable passion, and tear it down so swiftly that -the one difficulty is to get the salvage. And in -the course of building public works I have observed -the same phenomenon. While the forces are tearing -down, while they are excavating, that black -fringe of spectators, the “crow line” the builders -call it, is always there. But when once the work -is above ground, and construction begins, when the -structure lifts itself, when it aspires,—the crow -line dissolves and melts quite away. This, in a sense, -is true of man in any of his operations. When the -great awakening came, after the first shock of surprise, -after the first resolve to do better, the public -went at the work of demolition, all about the arena<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> -the thumbs of the multitude were turned down, and -we witnessed the tragedy of men who but a short -while before had been praised and lauded for their -possessions, and used as models for little boys in -Sunday-school, suddenly stripped of all their coveted -garments, and held up to the hatred and ridicule -of a world that can yet think of nothing better -than the stocks, the pillory, the jail, and the scaffold.</p> - -<p>In Edinburgh I was shown a little church of -which Sir Walter Scott was once a vestryman, or -deacon or elder or some such official, and in the door -still hung the irons in which offenders were fastened -on Sunday mornings so that the righteous, as they -went to pray, might comfort themselves with a consoling -sense of their own goodness by spitting in -the face of the sinner. Many of our reforms are -still carried on in this spirit, and are no more sensible -or productive of good.</p> - -<p>The word “reformer,” like the word “politician” -has degenerated, and, in the mind of the common -man, come to connote something very disagreeable. -In four terms as mayor I came to know both species -pretty well, and, in the later connotations of the -term, I prefer the politician. He, at least, is human. -The reformers, as Emerson said, affect one -as the insane do; their motives may be pious, but -their methods are profane. They are a buzz in the -ear.</p> - -<p>I had read this in Emerson in my youth, when for -a long time I had a veritable passion for him, just -as in a former stage, and another mood, I had had -a veritable passion for books about Napoleon, and,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span> -at another, for the works of Carlyle, and the controversy -excited by the reckless Froude; but the truth—as -it appears to me, or at any rate, the part of -a truth—was not borne in upon me until I came -to know and to regard, with dread, the possibility -that I might be included in their number, which I -should not like, unless it were as a mere brother in -humanity, somewhat estranged in spirit though we -should be.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XXXIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The disadvantages of being classed as a reformer -are not, I am sure, sufficiently appreciated; if they -were the peace of the world would not be troubled -as constantly as it is by those who would make mankind -over on a model of which they present themselves -as the unattractive example. One of those -advantages is that each reformer thinks that all the -other reformers are in honor committed to his reform; -he writes them letters asking for expressions -of sympathy and support, and, generally, when he -finds that each of the others has some darling reform -of his own which he is determined to try on an -unwilling public, he is at once denounced as a traitor -to the whole scheme of reform in the universe. Another -disadvantage is that reformers never are reëlected, -and I might set forth others, were it my -intention to embark on that interesting subject.</p> - -<p>I am moved to these observations, however, by the -recollection of an experience, exasperating at the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span> -time, though now of no moment, since it has cured -itself as will most exasperations if left long enough -to themselves. Its importance, if it have any importance -at all, may be ascribed to its effect of having -saved me from any such fatal classification, -unless I were far enough away from home, where -almost anyone may be regarded as a reformer. To -be sure, as I was just saying, in the days immediately -following my first election, I was regarded by -many of the sacred and illuminated host of reformers -in the land as one of them, since I was asked to -join in all sorts of movements for all sorts of prohibitions,—of -the use of intoxicating liquors and -tobacco and cigarettes, and I know not what other -vices abhorred by those who are not addicted to -them,—but it was my good luck, as it seems now to -have been, to be saved from that fate by as good -and faithful an enemy as ever helped a politician -along. The Democrats had been placed in power -that year in Ohio, and with Tom Johnson, many of -us felt that it was an opportunity to secure certain -changes in the laws of Ohio relating to the -government of cities, that is, we felt it was time -to secure our own reforms; everyone else, of course, -felt the same way about his reforms. We had organized -late in the previous year an association of -the mayors of the cities in the state for the purpose -of making changes in the municipal code that -would give the cities a more mobile form of government -and greater powers, in other words, it was -the first definite movement in favor of home rule for -cities, a liberation for which we struggled for almost<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span> -a decade before we achieved any measure of -success. We had drafted a new municipal code -and had met at Columbus early in that January in -which I took my office, to put the finishing touches -to our code before presenting it to the legislature, -and one morning I strolled into the hall of the House -of Representatives before the daily session had been -convened.</p> - -<p>There was in the House at that time a newly -elected member whom Johnson had supported for -election and no sooner was he in his seat than he -opposed every measure Johnson espoused, and, -under the warming applause his disloyalty won from -Johnson’s enemies, he became an opponent of the -mayor more vociferous than effective. He was exactly, -I think, of that type described by Emerson, -who in the course of saying everything worth saying, -or that will be worth saying for the next two -hundred years, said: “Republics abound in young -civilians who believe that the laws make the city, -that grave modifications of the policy and modes of -living and employments of the population, that commerce, -education and religion, may be voted in or -out; and that any measure, though it were absurd, -may be imposed on a people if only you can get sufficient -voices to make it a law. But the wise know -that foolish legislation is a rope of sand which perishes -in the twisting; that the state must follow and -not lead the character and progress of the citizen; -the strongest usurper is quickly got rid of; and they -only who build on Ideas build for eternity; and that -the form of government which prevails is the expression<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span> -of what cultivation exists in the population -which permits it. The law is only a memorandum. -We are superstitious, and esteem the statute somewhat; -so much life as it has in the character of living -men is its force.”</p> - -<p>I knew this young civilian then only as one of the -Johnson group and as that was sufficient introduction, -in the <i>camaraderie</i> that existed between those of -us who were devoted to the same cause, I stopped, at -his salutation, and chatted with him for a moment. -He had asked my opinion on a bill he had introduced, -a measure to prohibit or regulate public -dances in cities, or some such thing, and when I -failed to evince the due degree of interest in the -young man’s measure, he was at once displeased and -tried to heat me to the proper degree of warmth in -the holy cause of reform. He began, of course, by -an indignant demand to know if I was in favor of -the evils that were connected with public dances, and -when I tried to show him that my inability to recognize -his measure as the only adequate method of -dealing with those evils did not necessarily indicate -approval of them, he struck the prescribed attitude, -held up his right hand and said something in -the melodramatic style, about the oath of office I -had taken not many days before. I saw at once -then that I was dealing with a member in high -standing of the order of the indurated sectarian -mind, whose fanaticism makes them the most impossible -persons in the world, and having never been -certain which of the advice in the Proverbs should -be accepted, I yielded to a fatal habit of joking—the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span> -history of the Republic is strewn with the wrecks -of careers that were broken by a jest—and told him -that I had taken my oath of office before a notary -public, and that perhaps it had not been of full efficacy -on that account.</p> - -<p>And then I went away, and forgot the incident. -It was revived in my memory, however, and intensified -in its interest for me the next morning, when -on getting back home, I saw in the newspapers a -despatch from Columbus, under the most ominous -of black headlines, stating that I had told the distinguished -representative, on the very floor of the -House, under the aegis, one almost might say, of -the state, that I had no reverence for my oath of office, -and did not intend to respect it. Here was -anarchy for you, indeed, from the old pupil of Altgeld!</p> - -<p>It was, of course, useless to explain, since any -statement I might make would be but one more welcome -knot to the tangle of misrepresentation in -which the unhappy incident was being so gladly -snarled, and I tried to forget it, though that was -impossible, since it provided the text for many a -sanctimonious editorial in the land, in each one of -which some addition was made to the original report. -Herbert Spencer says somewhere that for -every story told in the world there is some basis of -truth, and I suppose he is right, but I have always -felt that he did not, at least in my reading of him, -sufficiently characterize that worst vice of the human -mind, intellectual dishonesty. Perhaps if he had associated -less with scientists and more with professional<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span> -reformers of the morals of other persons he -would not have omitted this curious specimen from -his philosophic analysis, if he did omit it; and if that -experience of the young civilian at Columbus had -not been sufficient, I could have supplied him with -another out of an episode in which I had borne a -part some years before, one which should have been -sufficient to warn me against the type for the rest -of my life.</p> - -<p>It concerns another young civilian, though this -one was so old that he should have known better, -and relates to a time years before when I happened -to be running for the state senate. I say happened, -for it was precisely of that fortuitous nature, since -I had not been concerned in the circumstances which -nominated me, so entirely negative in their character -that I might as well have been said not to be running -at all. I was a young lawyer, just beginning -to practice, and in my wide leisure was out of town -that summer, economically spending a holiday at -my father’s house, and, since the Democrats had no -hope in this world of carrying the district, and -could get no one who was on the ground to defend -himself to accept their nomination, they had nominated -me. It was an honor, perhaps, but so empty -and futile that when I came home again it seemed -useless even to decline it, and best to forget it, and -so I tried to do that, and made no campaign at all. -But one afternoon I had a caller, a tall, dark -visaged man, in black clerical garb, who came softly -into my office, carefully closed the door, and, fixing -his strange, intense eyes on me, said that he came to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span> -talk politics. He represented a reform league and -he came, he said, to discuss my candidature for the -state senate, and to offer me the support of his organization. -“Of course,” he went on to explain, “we -should impose certain conditions.” He fixed on me -again and very intently, those strange, fanatic eyes.</p> - -<p>I knew very well what the conditions were; it was -hardly necessary for him to explain that I should be -expected to sign a pledge to support the bills proposed -by his organization, some of which, no doubt, -were excellent measures.</p> - -<p>I explained to him that I was under no illusions -as to the campaign, that there was no possible chance -of my election that year, that if there had been I -never would have been nominated, and nothing short -of a miracle could elect me. “But,” I added, “even -if that miracle happens, though it will not, and I -should be elected, I should go down to Columbus and -to the Senate able to say that I had made no promises -whatever.”</p> - -<p>He looked at me a moment, with those strange, -cold eyes peering narrowly out of his somber visage, -and as he gazed they seemed to contract, and with -the faint shadow of a smile that was wholly without -humor, he said:</p> - -<p>“Well, you can say that.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” I asked.</p> - -<p>The smile raised the man’s cheeks a little higher -until they enclosed the little eyes in minute wrinkles, -and invested them with an expression of the deepest -cunning.</p> - -<p>“Why, since you are opposed to signing our<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> -pledge, we will waive that in your case, and you and -I can have a little private understanding—no one -need ever know, and you can say——” he was gently -tapping the ends of his fingers together, and the last -terms of his proposal seemed to be absorbed by an -expression of vulpine significance so eloquent and -plain in its meaning that mere words were superfluous.</p> - -<p>I sat there and looked at him; I had known of him, -he spoke nearly every Sunday in some church, and -took up collections for the reform to which, quite -sincerely, I believe, he was devoting his life. Then -I said:</p> - -<p>“But that isn’t my idea even of politics, to say -nothing of ethics.”</p> - -<p>I believe now that he had no conception of the -moral significance of his suggestion that we have -an implied understanding which I was to be at liberty -to deny if the exigencies of politics suggested -it. He was a reformer, belonging to the order of -the indurated mind. He was possessed by a theory, -which held his mind in the relentless mould of its -absolutism, and there his mind had hardened, and, -alas, his heart, too, no doubt—so that its original -impressions were all fixed and immutable, and not -subject to change; they could not be erased nor -could any new impressions be superimposed. He was -convinced that his particular theory was correct, -and that if only it could be imposed on mankind, the -world would be infinitely better off; and that hence -any means, no matter what, were permissible in effecting -this imposition, because of the good that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span> -would follow. It is an old mental attitude in this -world, well treated of in books, and understood and -recognized by everyone except those who adopt it, -and in its spirit every new reform is promulgated by -its avatar. But the reformer never thinks of himself -in any such light, of course, he does not understand -it any more than he understands mankind’s -distrust of him. It is the instinctive fear of the -theorist that has been felt for every one of them from -Robespierre, the archtype, and impossibilist par excellence, -down to the latest man haranguing his little -idle crowd on the street corner.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XL</h2> -</div> - - -<p>These observations come with the recollection of -those days of my first term in the mayor’s office -when I had so much to do with reformers that I -earnestly desired that no one would ever include me -in their category. They came to see me so often -and in such numbers that my whole view of life was -quite in danger of distortion. It seemed that half -the populace had set forth in a rage to reform mankind, -and their first need was to get the mayor to use -the police force to help them. When they did not -call at the office, they were writing letters. The -favorite day for these expressions of the reforming -spirit was Monday. I had been many months in the -office however, before I was able to make this generalization, -though from the first I could observe -that Monday took on something of that dismal and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span> -somber tone which has given it its name of blue -Monday. In the early days of a simpler life in our -country, when the customs of the pioneer had not -been superseded by the complexities of modern existence, -its color used to be ascribed to the fact that it -was wash day, and perhaps it has remained a sort of -moral wash day ever since. At any rate we soon -discovered that everyone who had a grievance or a -complaint or a suggestion about his neighbor or -some larger scheme of reforming whole groups of the -population was most likely to be heavily charged -with it on Monday, and since the almost universal -conception among us is that all reforms can be -wrought by the mayor, by the simple process of -issuing an order to the police, these complaints -were of course lodged at the mayor’s office.</p> - -<p>They were of a curious variety, expressing, I suppose, -not only all the moral yearnings of mankind, -but all the meaner moods of human nature, and each -new Monday morning seemed to have in reserve, for -a nature that was trying to keep its faith in humanity, -some fresh and theretofore unimagined instance -of the depths of little meannesses to which human -nature is capable of sinking. Many of them came -in person with their criticism, others sent anonymous -letters. Then there were those who came to -repeat ugly things they had heard about me; “I -wouldn’t tell you this if I were not your friend. I -think you ought to know it.” Later in the afternoon -the evenings’ newspapers, with the criticisms marked, -were laid on my desk. All this made Monday the -hardest day of the week, especially as the day closed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span> -with the hebdominal session of the council, where one -might find now and then some pretty discouraging -examples of human meanness. Tuesday was not -quite so bad, though it was trying; human nature -seemed to run pretty high, or pretty low, on that -day, too. By Wednesday, the atmosphere began to -clear, and by Thursday and Friday, everyone seemed -to be attending to his own business and letting the -faults of his neighbors go unnoted or at least unreported, -and Saturday was a day of such calm that -one’s whole faith in humanity was miraculously restored; -if the weather was fine one might almost discover -human nature as to be good as that nature -which would reveal herself on the golf links.</p> - -<p>As a result of it all we finally made the deduction—my -secretary Bernard Dailey, the stenographers -in the office and the reporters who formed so pleasant -an element of the life there—that it was all due to -the effects of the Sunday that had intervened. In -the first place, people had leisure on that day and -in that leisure they could whet up their consciences -and set them to the congenial task of dissecting the -characters of other people, or they could contemplate -the evils in the world and resolve highly to -make the mayor do away with them, and then after -the custom of our land they could gorge on the -huge Sunday noon dinner of roast beef, and then lie -about all afternoon like pythons in a torpor which -produced an indigestion so acute and lasting that -for three days it passed very well for pious fervor -and zeal for reform. Such at least was our theory, -offered here solely in the scientific spirit, and not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span> -by any means as final. It was acquiesced in by all -of us at the time, and has been supported by an unvarying -series of data on the Monday mornings -since then.</p> - -<p>We submitted it to Henry Frisch, the police sergeant -who had been detailed for duty in the mayor’s -office for many years, a dear and comfortable soul, -who had served under several mayors, and had developed -a philosophy of life that was a very Nirvana -of comfort and repose. Long ago, so it -seemed when he smiled indulgently on the discomfiture -of blue Monday, he had given up humanity as -a bad job; to him the race was utterly and irredeemably -hopeless, and without the need of saying a -word he could shake his honest head at the suggestion -of a new reform with a motion that was eloquent -of all negation. He was very tolerant, however, -and made no argument in rebuttal, he simply -refused to accept humanity on any general plane; -regarding the race as a biological species merely, -he would confide to you that his years of experience -at that post and as a policeman who had paced his -beat and afterward commanded a sergeant’s squad, -had convinced him that it was altogether depraved, -dishonest and disgusting, but with any individual -specimen of the species he was not that way at all. -He was really kindness itself. The next minute, with -tears in his eyes, he would go to any extremes to -help some poor devil out of trouble. Unless it were -reformers; for these he had no use, he said, and if his -advice had been accepted he would have been permitted -to expel them from the City Hall by their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span> -own beloved weapons of violence and force of arms. -On Sundays he went fishing.</p> - -<p>Perhaps at the time of which I am thinking, if -not very specifically writing, there was more of this -Monday spirit of reform than is usual. In the first -place, much is expected of a new official and because -he does not promptly work those miracles which are -confidently expected whether he was foolish enough -to promise them or not, he is so generally complained -of that it may be set down as an axiom of practical -politics that any elected official, in the executive -branch of the government, could be recalled at -any time during the first year of his incumbency -of his office. Just then, too, there had been elected -to the governorship a gentleman who had been very -deeply devoted to the interests of the Methodist -Church, the strongest denomination numerically in -Ohio—the first governor of Ohio, indeed, was a -Methodist preacher—and because of that fact and -because of the use in his inaugural message of the -magic phrase “law and order,” it was at once announced -in the most sensational manner of the sensational -press that, unless all the sumptuary laws in -Ohio were drastically enforced, all the mayors of the -cities would be removed. Governor Pattison had -been elected as a Democrat, and during his campaign -Tom Johnson and I had supported him, and it was -while we were in Columbus at his inauguration that -this sensation was exploited in the newspapers. I -remember how Tom Johnson received it when one -of his coterie brought the extra editions into the -hotel and pointed out to him the dreadful predictions<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span> -of the headlines; the white, aristocratic hand waved -the suggestion imperiously aside, and he said:</p> - -<p>“Four days, and it’ll all be over. That’s the life -of a newspaper sensation.”</p> - -<p>I believe that newspaper editors themselves place -the limit of the effectiveness of a sensation at about -that time, though some of them are so shrewd that -they drop the sensation the day before the people -begin to lose interest in it, instead of waiting for -the day on which they actually tire of it. Which -may be an explanation of the fact that the beginnings -of things are always treated so much more -fully in the press than their endings; one always -reads of the opening of the trial, and the awful -charge, but is never told how it all came out in the -end, unless the end was catastrophic. The theory of -the press is, I believe, that good news is no news.</p> - -<p>I do not know that poor Governor Pattison ever -had any intention of raising the issue of local self-government, -and of raising it in such a direct and -positive way as by attempting to remove all the -mayors of Ohio towns and cities in which it could be -shown that some little enactment of the legislature -had failed of absolute enforcement; I suppose he had -no such intention, since the law gave him no such -power, though that made no difference to the professional -reverencers and enforcers of law. The poor -man never saw the governor’s office after that night -of his brilliant inauguration, when he stood, very -dark and weary, with features drawn, but resolutely -smiling, at his levee in the senate chamber, a tragic -figure in a way, the first Democratic governor in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span> -long while, and the fates treating him with their customary -irony and indignity by setting their seal -upon him in the very hour of his triumph. He died -in a few months, but there remained many of course -who could prophesy in his name and cast out devils -with each extra edition of the newspapers, and the -discussion of law enforcement has gone on pretty -steadily from that time to this.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I suppose the discussion is one which must go on -always in any land where the people of our race -and tradition dwell. A more objective, natural and -naïve people would not be so interested in sin, and -when the late Mayor Gaynor of New York spoke of -the difficulty of administering the affairs of a modern -city according to “the standard of exquisite morals” -held aloft by some persons for others, he designated -in his clear and clever way a class of citizens familiar -to every mayor by the curiously doctrinaire order -of indurated mind with which they are endowed. -They begin with the naïve assumption that their -standard is the one and only correct standard, and -that since men have repeatedly refused to adopt it -on mere inspection they must be forced to do so by -the use of violence, a process which they call maintaining -“law and order.” They believe that any -wrong, any abuse, may be stopped instantly by the -passage of a law, and if one venture to question the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> -efficacy of any plan they propose, he is said at once -to be opposed to morality and to religion, and is set -down as a profane and sacrilegious person.</p> - -<p>It is, of course, inconvenient to argue with a -person who has the supreme refuge of the irrelevant -conclusion; as inconvenient as it would be were one -to be offered carbolic acid as a toilet article, -and, upon refusal, be accused of not believing in -cleanliness. This order of mind imagines that every -phase of human conduct can be ordered and regulated -by the enactment of statutes; that the industries, -occupations, clothing, amusements, appetites, -passions, prejudices, opinions, ambitions, aspirations -and devotions of man can be changed, moulded and -regulated by city councils and state legislatures. -Every inconvenience, every difficulty, every disagreeable -feature of modern life, is to be done away by -the passage of a law.</p> - -<p>That our race is saturated with this curious and -amazing superstition of the power of written enactments -is shown by the common terminology. The -mental reactions of a large portion of mankind -against the irritation of opposing opinion and conduct -habitually express themselves in the phrase, -“There ought to be a law.” It is heard as often -every day as the stereotyped references to the -weather. Not a disagreeable incident in life is complained -of without that expression; no one has a -pet aversion or a darling prejudice that he does not -cherish the desire of having a law passed to bring -the rest of the world around to his way of feeling. -And when a trust is formed, or a strike interrupts<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span> -business, or the sheets on the hotel bed are too short, -or the hatpin of a woman in a crowded street car -is too long, or a new dance is introduced, or a boor -preëmpts a seat in a train, or a cat howls on the -back-yard fence in the night time, or a waiter is -impertinent, or the cook leaves, the indignant citizen -lifts his eyes hopefully toward that annual calamity -known as the session of the state legislature, and -repeats the formula: “There ought to be a law.” -And when the legislature assembles, a whole body of -foolish bills is introduced regulating everything in -the earth, and some things that are outside of the -earth. If a deed is disapproved of by a group of -people, an agitation is begun to make it a criminal -offense; by means of pains and penalties the whole of -life is to be regulated, and government is to -become a vast bureaucracy of policemen, catch-polls, -inspectors, beadles, censors, mentors, monitors -and spies. As the session draws toward its close, -the haste to enact all these measures becomes frantic. -I shall never forget those scenes of riot, the howling -and drunkenness and confusion and worse I have -witnessed in the legislatures of Illinois and of Ohio -the last night of the session. And all this delirium -goes on in every state of the Union, every winter—and -all these enactments must be revered. It is the -phase of the apotheosis of the policeman, who is to -replace nurse and parent and teacher and pastor, -and, relieving all these of their responsibilities, undertake -to remould man into a being of absolute perfection, -in whom character may be dispensed with, -since he is to dwell forever under the crystal dome<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span> -of a moral vacuum from which temptation has been -scientifically exhausted.</p> - -<p>The reason is simple, and obvious; it inheres in -the belief in the absolute. Your true reformer is -not only without humor, without pity, without -mercy, but he is without knowledge of life or of -human nature, and without very much of any sort -of sweetness and light. The more moral he is, the -harder he is, and the more amazingly ready with -cruel judgments; and he seldom smiles except with -the unction that comes with the thought of his own -moral superiority. He thinks there is an absolute -good and an absolute bad, and hence absolutely good -people and absolutely bad people.</p> - -<p>The peculiar and distinguishing feature of his -mind is that life is presented to it in stark and rigid -outline. He is blandly unconscious of distinctions; -he has no perception of proportions, no knowledge -of values, in a word, no sense of humor. His world -is made up of wholly unrelated antitheses. There -are no shades or shadows, no gradations, no delicate -and subtle relativities. A thing is either black or -white, good or bad. A deed is either moral or immoral, -a virtue or a crime. It is all very simple. -All acts of which he does not himself approve are -evil; all who do not think and act as he thinks and -acts, are bad. If you do not know when a deed, or -an opinion is wrong, he will tell you; and if you -doubt him or differ with him, you are bad, and it -is time to call in the police. “Whenever the Commons -has nothing else to do,” said the wise old member -of Parliament, “it can always make a new crime.”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span> -Statutes are thus enacted, as the saying is, against -all evils, great and small, and the greater the evil, -of course, the greater the moral triumph expressed -by the mere enactment. But because of certain contrarieties -in nature and a certain obstreperous quality -in human nature and a general complexity in -life as a whole these legal fulminations are frequently -triumphs only in theory, and in practice often intensify -the very ills they seek to cure. As the witty -Remy de Gourmont says: <i>Quand la morale triomphe -il se passes des choses très vilaines.</i></p> - -<p>The more intensively developed specimen of the -type will not overtly sin himself, but he loves to inspect -those who do, and to peer at them, and to wonder -how they could ever have the courage to do it; -he likes to imagine their sensations, and to note each -one of them as it was developed in the interesting -experience. And hence the psychic lasciviousness of -those who are constantly reporting plays and pictures -as fit for the censor they are always clamoring -for. Sometimes they go slumming as students of the -evils of society. They are like pious uncles who -never swear themselves under any circumstances, but -relate stories of other men who do, recite their delightful -experiences and roll out the awful oaths with -which the profane gave vent to their feelings with a -relish that is no doubt a relief to their own.</p> - -<p>It is, I suppose, our inheritance from the Puritans, -or the worst of our inheritance from the Puritans, -and it is possible that it is worth while to -have paid the penalty as a price for the best we -derived from them, since one has to take the bad with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span> -the good, though in those days I often wished that -the bequest had gone to some other of the heirs. -Perhaps in thus speaking of the good we had from -them, I am merely yielding to the fear of saying -openly what I have often thought, namely, that the -good we had from the Puritans has been immensely -overestimated and exaggerated, and is not one whit -better or greater in quantity or influence than that -we had from the Cavaliers, or for that matter from -the latest emigrant on Ellis Island. They themselves -appreciated their own goodness, and we have always -taken their words for granted. I have often thought -that some day, when I had the elegant leisure necessary -to such a task, I should like to write “A History -of Puritanism,” or, since I should have to place -the beginnings of the monumental work in Rome as -far back at least as the reign of the first Emperor, -perhaps I should be less ambitious and content myself -with writing “A History of Puritanism in the -United States of America.” I should have to begin -the larger work at that interesting period of the history -of Rome when the weary Augustus was being -elected and reëlected president against his will and -trying to gratify the spirit of Puritanism that was -even in such people as those Romans, by enacting all -sorts of sumptuary laws and foolish prohibitions, -and trying out to miserable failures every single one -of the proposals that have since that time been made -over and over again in the hope of regenerating -mankind. The story of how the Emperor’s own -daughter was almost the first to disobey his regulations -is dramatic enough to conclude rather than<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span> -to begin any history, and yet I could write it with -much more pity than I could the story of those -Puritans who abounded in my own locality in my -own time. To write fairly and philosophically of -them I should have to wait not only for a leisure -so large and so elegant that I am certain never to -have it, but I should have to cultivate a philosophic -calm which I own with shame is far from me when -I think of some of the things they, or some of -them, did in their efforts to force their theories on -others. I should not recall such things now, and if -I were to put them in that monumental and scholarly -work of my imagination, it should be, of course, only -in the cold scientific spirit, and as specimens, say -in nonpariel type, at the foot of the page with the -learned annotations.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Speaking of this passion for laws and regulations -and how some of the zealous would order even the -most private and personal details of life in these -states, Mr. Havelock Ellis, in a brilliant chapter of -his work, “The Task of Social Hygiene,” takes occasion -to observe that “nowhere in the world is there so -great an anxiety to place the moral regulation of -social affairs in the hands of police,” and that -“nowhere are the police more incapable of carrying -out such regulation.” The difficulty is due of course -to the fact that the old medieval confusion of crime -and vice persists in a community where the Puritan -tradition still strongly survives. The incapability,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span> -as has been pointed out, is not so much in the -policemen as in that <i>bêtisse humaine</i> which expects -such superhuman work of them.</p> - -<p>This insistent confusion of vice with crime has -not only had the effect of fostering both, but is the -cause of the corruption of the police. Their proper -function is to protect life and property and maintain -the public peace, and this the police of American -cities perform as well as policemen anywhere. But -when, by a trick of the sectarian mind, the term -<i>crime</i> is made to include all the follies and weaknesses -and vices of humanity, where there is added -the duty of enforcing statutes against a multitude -of acts, some of which only Puritanical severity -classes as crimes, others of which are regarded by -the human beings in the community with indifference, -tolerance or sympathy, while still others are inherent -in mysterious and imperative instincts which balk -all efforts at general control, the task becomes -wholly impossible and beyond human ability.</p> - -<p>The police know it, and everybody knows it, and -it is the hypocrisy of society that corrupts them. -The police know, intuitively, and without any process -of ratiocination, that people are human, and subject -to human frailties; they are pretty human themselves, -and, in common with most of the people in -the community, see no great wrong in some of the -things that are done which the sumptuary laws condemn. -Most of them, for instance, drink a glass of -beer now and then, or play a game of cards, or go to -a baseball game on Sunday. They are not apt to be -gentlemen of the most refined and exquisite tastes.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span> -And it is difficult to induce men to take much interest -in punishing acts their own consciences do not condemn. -This, with the situation at its best; at its -worst, knowing that, despite all the enactments of -legislatures, people will continue in their hardened -ways, they are apt to abuse their power. For they -know, too, that the statutes prohibiting the merely -venial of those acts oftentimes run counter to the -urban custom and that the community regards it as -of no great consequence if they are not enforced. -Thus a wide discretion is permitted the police by the -public conscience in the discharge of their duties, -and this discretion is one which quite humanly they -proceed to abuse. If they choose, they may enforce -the sumptuary laws against certain persons or refrain -from doing so, and the opportunity for corruption -is presented. The opportunity widens, opens -into a larger field, and not only does the corruption -spread, but it is not long before the police are employing -extra legal methods in other directions, and -at last in many instances establish an actual tyranny -that would not be tolerated in a monarchy. The result -is that we read every day of arbitrary interferences -by policemen with most of the constitutional -rights, such as free speech, the right of assembly and -petition, etc. They even set up a censorship and -condemn paintings, or prohibit the performance of -plays, or assume to banish women from the streets -because they are dressed in a style which the police -do not consider <i>comme il faut</i>.</p> - -<p>And while the corruption is deplored and everywhere -causes indignation and despair, this tyranny<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span> -does not seem to excite resistance or even remark; -the press, the paladium of our liberties, does not often -protest against it, and few seem to have sufficient -grasp of the principle to care anything -about it.</p> - -<p>There is a story somewhere of a little girl, homeless, -supperless, shivering in rags in the cold rain -of the streets of New York, and of a passer-by observing -in a kind of sardonic sympathy:</p> - -<p>“And she is living under the protection of sixteen -thousand laws!”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes,” said his friend, perhaps a professional -reformer of third persons, who naturally lacked a -sense of humor; “but they were not enforced!”</p> - -<p>It is not altogether inconceivable that if all the -laws had been enforced the little girl’s condition -would have been even worse than it was, considering -how haphazard had been the process of making all -those laws, and how, if set in motion, many of them -would have clashed with each other.</p> - -<p>If they were effective, the whole of human kind -would have been translated, like Enoch, long ago. -Of course, the assertion that they had not been enforced -was the obvious retort. And it was true, because -it is impossible to enforce all of them. And -what is more no one believes that all the laws should -be enforced, all the time,—that is, no one believes -in absolute law enforcement, since no one believes -that the laws should be enforced against <i>him</i>. Everybody -hates a policeman just as everybody loves a -fireman. And yet the fire department and the police -department are composed of the same kind of men,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> -paid the same salaries, and responsible to the same -authorities. The duty of the fireman is, of course, -the simpler, because there is no disagreement among -men about the thing to be done. When a fire breaks -out in the city, the fire department is expected to -rush to the spot, to pour water on the fire, and to -continue pouring water on the fire until it ceases to -burn. The reforming mind seems to think that the -duty of the policeman is of equal simplicity, and that -when a wrong is done, the sole duty of the police consists -in rushing immediately to that spot, seizing the -wrongdoer, and, by confining him in a prison, thereby -eradicate his tendency to do wrong, and, by holding -him up as an example to others who are considering -the commission of that wrong, to deter them -from it.</p> - -<p>As far as crimes are concerned, the policemen, -indeed, do fairly well. Though that they succeed -in any measure at all in discharging their functions -is a wonder when one considers the contumely -and abuse that are constantly heaped upon them in -all our cities. The newspapers, when there are no -accounts of crime to print—and the assumption is -that crimes and casualties, if they are horrid enough, -are the principal events in the annals of mankind -worth chronicling—can always print suggestions of -the crimes of the police. The reporter, a human -being himself, dissatisfied because the policemen cannot -gratify his hunger for sensation, is not to blame, -perhaps; he views life from the standpoint of his -own necessities, and his conception of life is of a -series of exciting tragedies enacted with a view to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span> -making the first edition interesting, so that the ears -of the populace may be assaulted in the gloom of -each evening’s dusk by that hideous bellowing of the -news “boy,” whose heavy voice booms through the -shade like some mighty portent of disaster in the -world.</p> - -<p>This all sounds pretty hopeless, but if morals are -to be wrought by and through policemen, I am sure -we shall have to pay higher salaries, and procure -men who are themselves so moral that their consciences -are troubled only by the sins of others; -there is no other way. Unless, of course, anything -is left in these modern days of the theory of the -development of individual character. But that is the -program of a thousand years.</p> - -<p>As for the future of municipal government in this -land, I venture to set down this prediction: That no -appreciable advance will be made, no appreciable -advance can be made in any fundamental sense, so -long as the so-called moral issue is the pivot on -which municipal elections turn, or so long as it is allowed -to remain to bedevil officials, to monopolize -their time and to exhaust their energies, so that -they have little of either left for their proper work -of administration.</p> - -<p>Either cities must have home rule, including the -local police power, with the right to regulate amusements -and resorts and even vices according to the -will of the people in that city, whatever the rural -view may be, or some authority other than the -mayor, and far wiser and nobler than any mayor I -ever knew or heard of, must be raised up by the state<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span> -in whom may be united the powers and functions of a -beadle, a censor, and a dictator. I have not the -slightest idea where one so wise and pure is to be -found, but doubtless there are plenty who do, if -their modesty would permit them to speak.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>I used to recall, during the early and acute phase -of this discussion, an incident that occurred in the -old Springfield days in Loami, down in the Sangamon -country. The little village in those days could -boast an institution unlike any, perhaps, in the land, -unless it were to be found in some small hamlet in the -South. In the public square, on a space worn -smooth and hard as asphalt, a great circle was -drawn, and here, every day when the weather was -fine, a company of old men gathered and played -marbles. What the game was I do not know; -some development of one of the boys’ games, no -doubt, but with what improvements and embellishments -only the old men who understood and played -it could say. Its enthralled votaries played with -large marbles, which spun from their gnarled and -horny knuckles all day long, with a shifting crowd -of onlookers gaping at their prowess. The players -were old and dignified, and took their sport seriously. -There were to be seen, about that big ring, -sages who had sat on juries and been swayed by the -arguments of Lincoln; there were gray veterans who -had gone with Sherman to the sea and had been with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span> -Grant at Appomattox; and now, in their declining -years, they found pleasure and a mildly stimulating -excitement in this exercise. The skill they developed -in the game is said by those who have studied the -subject on the ground to have been considerable; -some testify that these elders had raised their sport -to the point of scientific dignity, and that the ability -they displayed ranked them as the equals of golfers -or of billiardists.</p> - -<p>The exciting tournaments went on for years, the -old gentlemen were happy, the little village was -peaceful and contented, when suddenly the town -was shocked by a new sensation. Loami elected a -reform administration. How it came about I do not -know; some local muckraker may have practiced his -regenerating art, or perhaps some little rivulet of -the reform wave just then inundating the larger -world outside may have trickled down into Loami. -What privilege in the town was menaced I do not -know; what portion of eminent respectability felt its -perquisites in danger I cannot say; but Privilege -seems to have done what it always does when pursued—namely, -it began to cry for the reformation -of persons instead of conditions. The new reform -mayor, like many another mayor, was influenced; -and, looking about for someone to reform, his eye -wandered out of the window of the town hall one -May morning and lighted on the grizzled marble-players, -and he ordered the constable into action.</p> - -<p>Upon what legal grounds he based his edict I -cannot say. It is not vital for, as there were about -sixteen thousand laws then running in his jurisdiction,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span> -it would not have been difficult to justify his -action on legal grounds. It will be remembered that -the old men were playing in the public square; perhaps -they played “for keeps,” and it may have been -that there were certain little understandings of a -speculative nature on the side. Above all, the old -men were enjoying themselves, and if this were not -a sufficient offense what could be? And if a constable’s -highest duty were not to interfere with the -enjoyment of other folks what would become of the -constitution and the law?</p> - -<p>At any rate the old men were forbidden to play, -their game was rudely interrupted, their ring obliterated, -their marbles confiscated. There was, of -course, resistance; some skirmishing and scrimmaging; -a heated, acrimonious proceeding in the mayor’s -court, and afterward hatred and strife and bad -feeling, the formation of factions, and other conditions -catalogued under law and order. But at -length the space worn so smooth under the trees -near the bandstand was sodded, and the old fellows -might gather in silent contemplation of a new sign, -“Keep off the Grass,” and reflect upon this supreme -vindication of authority.</p> - -<p>But Loami is a democracy, or as much of a democracy -as the state will permit it to be, and when the -next election rolled around the old men were alert, -and after an exciting contest they elected a mayor -of their own, a liberal. The reform mayor was relegated -to the political limbo of one-termers, the -privileged few preserved their privileges, and the old -men, skinning the sod off that portion of the public<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span> -square, drew anew their huge bull-ring, resumed their -game, and everybody was happy and unreformed -except, of course, the reformers; though perhaps -they were happy, too, in their restored misery of -having something to complain about and to wag -their heads over.</p> - -<p>In relating this veracious little tale of the lid of -Loami, perhaps I have not sufficiently revealed that -attitude of moral sympathy toward the good characters -in the story which Tolstoy insists a writer -should always assume and maintain. But this has -not been due to any want of that sympathy. In the -shadows of the scene the figure of the mayor, for -instance, has ever been present—the keenest sufferer, -the most unhappy man of them all. He was the one -of all of them who was burdened with official responsibility; -the marble-playing faction was happy in -that it had no responsibility save of that light, artificial -sort imposed by the rules of its game; its conscience, -indeed, was untroubled. The other faction—the -goo-goos, or whatever they were called in -Loami—felt responsible primarily for the short-comings -of others; their consciences were troubled only -by the sins of other people, the easiest and most -comfortable, because it is the most normal, position -that the human conscience can assume. But the -mayor was held responsible for everything and everybody, -and in seeking to do his duty he found that -difficulty which must everywhere increase in a society -and a civilization which, in casting off some of its -old moorings, recognizes less the responsibility of -parent and teacher, not to mention personal responsibility,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span> -and is more and more disposed to look to -the law and its administrators as the regulators and -mentors of conduct.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It is an axiom of municipal politics that a reform -administration, or an administration elected as a -protest against the evils of machine government, -boss rule, and the domination of public service corporations, -is immediately confronted by the demand -of those who call themselves the good people to -enforce all the sumptuary laws and to exterminate -vice. That is, the privileged interests and their allies -and representatives seek to divert the attention of -the administration from themselves and their larger -and more complex immoralities to the small and -uninfluential offenders, an old device, always, in the -hope of escape, inspired by privilege when pursued, -just as friends of the fox might turn aside the -hounds by drawing the aniseed bag across the trail. -Many a progressive administration in this land has -been led into that <i>cul de sac</i>, and as Mr. Carl Hovey -observed recently of the neat saying to the effect -that the way to get rid of a bad law is to enforce -it, the process usually proves to be merely the way -to get rid of a good administration. The effort had -been made by the opponents of Golden Rule Jones -and it had failed. It had been attempted in the case -of Tom Johnson and it had failed, though curiously -enough the effort was never made in Toledo or in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span> -Cleveland or in Cincinnati, or elsewhere for that -matter, in the days of machine domination. The -Puritan never lets his religion interfere with business.</p> - -<p>I used often to recall, in those days, a witty saying -of Mr. William Travers Jerome, when he was -District Attorney in New York. He said he often -wished that there were two volumes of the Revised -Statutes, one to contain the laws enacted for human -beings, and the other to embalm the moral yearnings -of rural communities.</p> - -<p>It was disturbing and discouraging, of course, to -feel that out there in the community there was this -shadowy mass of well intentioned people, the most -of whom no doubt, in common with all the rest of us, -did wish to see moral improvement, and yet so misconstrued -and misinterpreted our efforts. It was -saddening, too, because in the work we were trying -to do we should have liked their sympathy, their interest -and their support. Because of their wider -opportunity of enlightenment much better and -nobler things might have been demanded of them, -but as Johnson Thurston one night pointed out, -they did not show as much civic spirit, as much concern -for the common weal as those of smaller opportunities, -those bad people as they called them of -whom much less would naturally have been expected. -I made a rule, as I have already said somewhere in -these pages, not to talk back, or to argue with -them. They viewed life from the Puritan standpoint, -and I suppose that I viewed it from the pagan -standpoint. The sins of others and their mistakes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> -and failures never did excite in me that moral indignation -which exists in the breasts of some; perhaps -the old distinction between bad people and good -people had been blurred in my consciousness. I -could see that the bad people did many good things in -their lives, and that the good people thought many -dark and evil thoughts. I had seen indeed so much -more kindness and consideration, so much more pity -and mercy shown by the bad that I felt strengthened -in my philosophy and in my belief that if their environment -could be improved, if they could have a -better chance in life, they would be as good as anybody. -It seemed to me that most of the crime in -the world was the result of involuntary poverty, -and the tremendous, perhaps insuperable task, was -to make involuntary poverty impossible. But in the -meantime there was other work to be done. Aside -from the problem of transportation which was but -one phase of the great struggle between privilege -and the people, of plutocracy with democracy, there -were civic centers, city halls, markets, swimming -pools, bridges to be built, parks to be improved, -boulevards and parkways to be laid out, a filtration -plant to be installed, improvements in all of the -other departments, a great mass of wonderful work -for the promotion of the public amenities, the public -health, and the adornment of the city, in a word, -there was a city to be built, and strangely enough -this group of objectors of whom I have been speaking, -were so intensely preoccupied with moral considerations -that they never had even the slightest interest -in these improvements. I think it is this<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span> -spirit of Puritanism that has made the cities of -America so ugly, or permitted them to be ugly; -such conceptions as beauty and ugliness are perhaps -impossible to minds that know no distinction -but good and bad, and for this reason it has been -difficult to make an æsthetic appeal with any effectiveness.</p> - -<p>During three of my four terms in that office the -nasty quarrel about morals raged. As I look back -and think now with what virulence it did rage, it -appeals to me as a remarkable psychological phenomenon. -Of course it was bad for those who engaged -in it, and bad for the town as well, for such -an exaggerated idea of conditions was given that the -police in neighboring cities, clever rogues that they -were, could always excuse and exculpate themselves -for any of their delinquencies by saying that the -thieves that had come to town hailed from Toledo, -or that those they could not catch had gone and -taken refuge there. But I did not engage in the -discussion nor permit the police officials to do so. -There was no time, since there was so much other -work to do, and we went on as well as we could with -what Tom Johnson used to call the policy of administrative -repression, improving moral conditions with -such means as we had. We did succeed in eliminating -the wine rooms, in closing the saloons at midnight, -and finally, after a tremendous effort, in extirpating -professional gambling. It was of no consequence -that it did not have any effect upon criticism, -for we did not do it to stop criticism, and the -discussion went on until I had been elected for the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span> -third time, and immediately after that election when -a large majority of the people had again spoken -their minds on the subject, it was considered the -proper time to reopen the discussion and to hold a -so-called civic revival. The young, uncultured man -they brought to town to conduct that revival, could -have known nothing whatever of life, and was wholly -unconscious of the great economic forces which, -with so much complexity and friction, were building -the modern city. He came to call on me before he -opened his revival that he might have, as he said, a -personal, private and confidential talk. When I -asked him how the city could be regenerated, he said -he did not know, but this fact did not prevent him -from telling the audiences he addressed that week -just what should be done, and that he, for instance, -could nobly do it, and in the end they sent a committee -to me to tell me what to do, if not how to do -it. I asked the committee to reduce their complaints -to writing, to point out those evils which they considered -most objectionable, and to propose means -of combating them. The committee went away and -I confess I did not expect to see them again because -I had no notion that they could ever agree as to the -particular evils, but after some weeks they had come -to terms on a few heads, and filed their complaint -pointing out several specific vices in town, and as -a remedy proposed that they be “prevented.” I -replied to them in a letter in which I said all I -could think of at that time or all I could think of -now on this whole vexed problem. It was printed -in pamphlet form and rather widely circulated, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span> -finally published as a little book.<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> I do not know -that it convinced anybody who was not convinced -already. I think we got along a little better afterward -than we had before, and by the time my fourth -term was done the phenomenon of the discussion, if -not the vice, had disappeared. After my letter was -sent to the committee, it was said that they would -reply to it, but they never did, and instead invited -the Reverend William A. Sunday to come to the city -to conduct a revival. It was announced by some -that he came to assault our position, but when he arrived -Captain Anson, the old Chicago baseball -player, under whom Mr. Sunday had played baseball -in his younger days, happened to be giving his monologue -at a variety theater that week, and he and Mr. -Sunday together called on me. I do not know when -I have had a pleasanter hour than that we spent -talking about the old days in Chicago when Anson -had been playing first base and I had been reporting -the baseball games for the old <i>Herald</i>. That, to be -sure, was after the days of Billy Sunday’s services -in right field, but it was not too late for me to have -known and celebrated the prowess of that famous -infield, Anson, Pfeffer, Williamson and Burns, and -we could celebrate them again and speculate as to -whether there were really giants in those days whose -like was known on earth no more.</p> - -<p>Mr. Sunday conducted his revival with the success -that usually attends his efforts in that direction, -but he did not mention me or the administration<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span> -until the very close of his visit, when he said that -we were doing as well as anybody could be expected -to do under all the circumstances.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>When I referred to the general rule that policemen -are disliked and condemned I should have noticed -certain exceptions. The traffic squad for -instance is generally held in a respect and affection -that is part of the civic pride of the community. -Those fine big fellows on the corner, waving this -way or that with a gesture the flowing traffic of the -street, are greeted with smiles, and, as they assist -in the perilous passage of the thoroughfares, sometimes -with thanks and benedictions. The reason, of -course, is simple; they are not engaged in hurting -people, but in helping people, and so by the operation -of the immutable law, they attract to themselves -the best feelings of the people.</p> - -<p>And this is what we tried from the first to have -all our policemen do, to help people and not to hurt -them. It was what Jones had tried to do, and he had -begun with one of the most interesting experiments -in policing a city that has been made in our country. -He took away the clubs from the policemen. He -could have made at first no greater sensation if he -had taken away the police altogether, the protest -was so loud, so indignant, above all so righteous. -What sense of security could a community feel if -the policemen were to have no clubs, how would the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span> -unruly and the lawless be kept in check when they no -longer beheld this insignia of authority in the hands -of the guardians of the peace? And perhaps to -reassure the righteous and truly good Jones gave -the policemen canes and ran the great risk of making -them ridiculous.</p> - -<p>I am not sure that he would have cared much if he -had, since he had so little respect for the police idea, -and of course he had as little regard for organization. -I remember once that at a session of the old -police board he opposed the creation of new sergeants; -he said a sergeant always seemed as superfluous -to him as a presiding elder in the Methodist -Church. With an elected board of police commissioners -over it the police force was pretty certain to -be demoralized, of course, as is any executive department -of government which is directed by a board, for -with a board, unless all the members save one are -either dead or incapacitated, discipline and efficiency -are impossible. We got rid of the board system in -Ohio after two or three sessions of the legislature -had been wrestled with, and though the “mayor’s -code” was never enacted, many of its ideas were -adopted in amendments to the municipal code, so -that we approached the most efficient form of city -government yet devised in our rather close resemblance -to the federal plan.</p> - -<p>The time came, however, when the old elected -board of public service was succeeded by a director -of public service appointed by the mayor, and the -old board of public safety by a director of public -safety appointed by the same authority, though that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span> -was not until I had entered on my third term in the -mayor’s office. When that time came I appointed as -Director of Public Service Mr. John Robert Cowell, -a Manxman who managed the department of public -works admirably, and to the post of Director of -Public Safety Mr. John Joseph Mooney, whose -services and assistance I had already had on the -board of public safety when that was appointed by -the mayor. And Mr. Mooney was able to work out -many of the improvements we hoped to make in the -police department.</p> - -<p>And as Jones had taken the clubs away from the -policemen and given them canes, we took away the -canes and sent them forth with empty hands. Jones -had the idea of doing away with clubs from London -where he observed the bobbies who control the -mighty traffic in the streets of London. We were -therefore able to realize the whole of his ideal in that -respect, and our city, I think alone of all American -cities, could not merit the reproach that a Liverpool -man once made to me when we were discussing superficial -appearances in the two nations. “The most offensive -thing in America to me,” he said, “is the -way in which the policemen parade their truncheons.” -The public made no complaint at the disappearance -of the canes, but the policemen did; they -felt lost, they reported, without something to twirl -in their hands. We thought of letting them have -swagger sticks, but finally decided that they should -be induced to bear themselves gracefully with their -white gloved hands unoccupied. The white gloves -were the subject of amusement to the boors in town,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span> -who could always be amused at any effort at improvement, -but with them on, and the new uniforms -we had patterned after the uniform worn by the -New York policemen, the members of the department -soon began to have a pride in themselves.</p> - -<p>And that was exactly what we were trying to inculcate, -though it was difficult to do, and almost -impossible, one might think, since for generations -policemen have been the target for the sarcasms and -abuse of every voice of the community. The wonder -is, with such an universal conspiracy as exists in -America to give policemen a bad name, that they -have any character left at all. Surely each community -in various ways has done everything it could to -strip its policemen of every shred of reputation and -self respect and with these gone, character might be -expected shortly to follow. Of course the new uniforms -were ridiculed too, but we did not let that -discourage us.</p> - -<p>There was the civil-service law to help, and we -were of old devoted to the spirit and even to the -letter of that, though once the letter of that law -compelled us to an injustice, as the letter of any -law must do now and then. We had reorganized -the police department on a metropolitan basis, and -had done the same with the fire department, and in -this department there were accordingly created three -new positions of battalion chiefs, for which captains -were eligible. The oldest ranking captain in the -department was Dick Lawler, by everyone in the -department from the chief down conceded to be the -best fireman in the department, with a long and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> -untarnished record of devoted duty and quiet, unassuming -bravery. And it was his natural ambition to -round out that career as one of the chiefs. The -examining board held a written test, and as Lawler -was more accomplished in extinguishing, or, as his -comrades expressed it, in fighting fire, and much -more comfortable and at home on the roof of a burning -building than he was at a desk with a pen in his -hand, he did not do very well. When, for instance, -he read a long hypothetical question, setting forth -certain conditions at a fire and asking the applicant -where, under such circumstances, he would lay the -hose, Lawler wrote down as his answer, “Where it -would do the most good,” and on that answer the -board marked him zero. The board marked him zero -on so many answers indeed that the net result was -almost zero, and he failed.</p> - -<p>It was a kind of tragedy, in its little way, as -he stood in my office that morning on which he came -to appeal from the board, with tears in his eyes. -But the law was obdurate and I was helpless. But I -did point out to the examining board the absurdity -of such methods of testing a man’s ability, and after -that they allowed a man’s record to count for fifty -per cent. And it was not long until a vacancy occurred -among the chiefs—and Lawler was appointed.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>The questions put to Lawler were perhaps no -more absurd than many a one framed by civil-service<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span> -examiners. In any event the written examination -is apt to do as much harm as good, and for -policemen and firemen we came to the conclusion -that it was almost wholly worthless, once it had -been determined that an applicant could write well -enough to turn in an intelligible report. The initial -qualification on which we came to rely and to regard -as most important was the physical qualification. -There is no way to tell by asking a man questions -whether he will be a good policeman or not; -the only way to find that out is to try him for a -year. But his physical condition can be determined, -and on this basis we began to build the police force, -under the direction of Dr. Peter Donnelly, one of -the ablest surgeons in the country, whose tragic -early death was seemingly but a part of that fate -which took from us in a few short years so many -of the best and brightest of the young men in our -movement. The death of Peter Donnelly left us -desolate because he had a genius for friendship equal -to that genius as a surgeon which enabled him to -render a great social service.</p> - -<p>He was perfectly rigid in the examinations to -which he subjected applicants for positions in the -department, and wholly inaccessible to any sort of -influence in favor of the unfit. In the old days, -which by many were regretted as the good old days, -the only qualification an applicant needed was a -friend on the police board, and as a result the force -was encumbered with the lame, the halt, and the -blind; there were drinkers if not drunkards among -them, and the paunches which some bore before them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span> -were so great that when they took their belts off and -hung them up in those resorts where they accepted -the hospitality of a midnight meal, the belts seemed -to be as large as the hoops of the Heidelberg tun. -We rid the force of these as quickly as it could be -done, and the recruits who replaced them were, because -of Dr. Donnelly’s care and service, superb -young fellows, lithe and clean, who bore themselves -with self respect and an ardent pride in that <i>esprit -de corps</i> we were enabled to develop.</p> - -<p>But before that spirit could exist there were defects -other than physical that must be removed; -there were old jealousies and animosities, some of a -religious, or rather a theological nature—relic of an -old warfare between the sects that once devastated -the town with its unreasoning and remorseless and -ignorant hatred; a St. Patrick’s day had once been -celebrated by dismissing a score or more of Irishmen -from the police department. There were other -differences of race origin, and in doing away with all -these, so far as it could be done, Mr. Mooney, the -Director of Public Safety, had to his assistance the -ability and the tact of two crusted old characters on -the force, one of them the Chief of Police, Perry D. -Knapp, and the other Inspector John Carew, whose -hair had so whitened in the days he served the city -as a detective that he was called Silver Jack. He -was one of the ablest detectives anywhere, though -prejudice and jealousy had kept him down for a -long time. I had known him in my youth, and later -in the courts, and now that I had the chance I put -him at the head of the detective department, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span> -when I was tired of the troubles which harassed him -and me during the day, I tried sometimes to forget -them at night by writing stories in which he figured -as the clever detective he was.</p> - -<p>And as for Perry Knapp, I suppose there was not -another chief of police like him anywhere. Over his -desk was a picture of Walt Whitman, and in his -heart was the love for humanity that Whitman had, -and in his library were well read copies of Emerson -and a collection of Lincolniana I have often envied -him. He had served in close association with Jones, -who had made his position difficult by promoting him -over the heads of others in the department who -ranked him, and he was the heir of all the old distrust -of Jones’s attitude toward life. Nevertheless, -he found a way to apply Jones’s theories to the -policing of a city without any of that ostentation -which in some cases has brought such methods into -disfavor. I cannot, of course, describe his whole -method, but he was always trying to help people -and not to hurt them. He established a system by -which drunken men were no longer arrested, but, -when they could not be taken home as were those -club members with whom he tried in that respect at -least to put them on a parity, they were cared for at -police headquarters until morning, and then with -a bath and a breakfast, allowed to go without leaving -behind to dog their footsteps that most dreadful -of all fates, a “police record.” No one will ever -know how many poor girls picked up in police raids -he saved from the life to which they had been tempted -or driven, by sending them back to their homes when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span> -they had homes, or in some manner finding for them -a way out of their troubles. And I shall always remember -with a pleasure that there is such good in -humanity after all, when I recall that boy in the -workhouse whom a father in a far-off city was seeking. -The boy was working with other prisoners on -a bit of public work in one of the parks that winter -morning, and after he had secured a parole, the -Chief drove out to the park, and got the boy, -clothed him with garments he had bought himself, -bought a railway ticket and sent the boy away to -Chicago and his home. If he had waited until the -lad was brought in at night, he explained, the old -man would have lost a whole day of his son’s companionship!</p> - -<p>That is what I mean when I say that a government -should be made human, or part of what I mean; -such incidents are specifically noticeable because they -stand out in such contrast against the hard surface -of that inhuman institutionalism the reformers with -their everlasting repressions and denials and negatives -are trying to make so much harder. Charley -Stevens, the old circus man whom I appointed as -Superintendent of the Workhouse, very successfully -applied the some principle to the management of -that institution, which he conducted with his humor -and quaint philosophy more than by any code of -rules. He usually referred to his prison as the Temple -of Thought, and he abolished from it all the -marks of a prison, such as stripes and close cropped -polls, and all that sort of thing. He was criticized, -of course, since the conventional notion is that prisoners<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span> -should be made to appear as hideous as possible; -I am pretty sure that reformer disapproved who -one Sunday afternoon went down there and asked -the superintendent if he would permit him to preach -to the inmates and was told by Stevens that he would -like to accommodate him, but that he could not just -then break up the pedro game. There were those -who said that he was making it too easy for the -prisoners, and yet every now and then some of them -would escape, and when they were brought back, as -they usually were, they were met only with reproaches -and asked why they could not leave their -addresses when they went away so that their mail -could be forwarded. There were, however, two escaping -prisoners who never were returned. They -got away just in time to make a sensation for the -noon editions of the newspapers, and as I was on -my way to luncheon I met Stevens, standing on -the street corner, very calmly, while the newsboys -were crying in our ears the awful calamity that -had befallen society. When I asked what he was -doing, he said that he was hunting the escaped prisoners. -“I’ve been to the Secor and the Boody -House,” he said, naming two leading hotels, “and -they’re not there. I’m going over to the Toledo -Club now, and if they’re not there, I don’t know -where to look for them.”</p> - -<p>It may be that in these little incidents I give the -impression that he was a trifler, but that is not the -case. He knew, of course, that so far as doing any -good whatever in the world is concerned, our whole -penal system is a farce at which one might laugh<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span> -if it did not cause so many tears to be shed in the -world. But he did try to be kind to the inmates, -and by the operation of the parole system succeeded -to an extent commensurate with that attained by -Dr. Cooley of Cleveland. Of course it was all done -under the supervision of Mr. Mooney, the Director -of Public Safety, who rightly characterized our -whole penal system when he said:</p> - -<p>“Whenever you send one to prison you send four -or five; you send a man’s wife and his mother, and -his sister and his children, who are all innocent, and -you never do him any good.”</p> - -<p>But the workhouse, though under Mr. Mooney’s -direction, was not connected with the police department, -except in the archaic minds of those who -thought if we were only harsh and hard enough in -our use of both, we could drive evil, or at least the -appearance of evil, out of the city, and leave it, -standing like a rock of morality, in the weltering -waste of immorality all about us.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In no respect has the utter impotence of medieval -machinery in suppressing vice been more definitely -proved than in the great failure of society in dealing -with what is called the social evil. Whenever -my mind runs on this subject, as anyone’s mind -must in the present recrudescence of that Puritanism -which never had its mind on anything else, I -invariably think of Golden Rule Jones and the incidents -in that impossible warfare which worried<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span> -him into a premature grave. He was an odd man, -born so far out of his time that the sins of others -never troubled his conscience. He was so great, and -knew so much of life, more perhaps than he did of -history, on every page of which he would have found -the confirmations of the opinions life had taught -him, that he divined all lewdness, all obscenity to be -subjective and not objective, so that he found less -to abhor in the sins of the vicious than in the state -of mind of their indefatigable accusers and pursuers. -And he had his own way of meeting their complaints. -Once a committee of ladies and gentlemen called -upon him with the demand that he obliterate the -social evil, off-hand and instantly. They were simple, -brief and to the point. They informed him -that the laws providing for chastity were being -broken, that there were prostitutes in the city, and -in short, urged him to put a stop to it.</p> - -<p>“But what am I to do?” he inquired. “These -women are here.”</p> - -<p>“Have the police,” they said, a new, simple and -happy device suddenly occurring to them, “drive -them out of town and close up their houses!” They -sat and looked at him, triumphantly.</p> - -<p>“But where shall I have the police drive them? -Over to Detroit or to Cleveland, or merely out into -the country? They have to go somewhere, you -know.”</p> - -<p>It was a detail that had escaped them, and -presently, with his great patience, and his great -sincerity, he said to them:</p> - -<p>“I’ll make you a proposition. You go and select<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> -two of the worst of these women you can find, and -I’ll agree to take them into my home and provide for -them until they can find some other home and some -other way of making a living. And then you, each -one of you, take one girl into your home, under the -same conditions, and together we’ll try to find homes -for the rest.”</p> - -<p>They looked at him, then looked at each other, and -seeing how utterly hopeless this strange man was, -they went away.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>To be sure, that was in another day. Prostitution -had not become a subject for polite conversation -at the dinner table; pornographic vice commissions -had not been organized and provided with -appropriations so that their hearings might be stenographically -reported and published along with the -filthy details gathered in the stews and slums of cities -by trained smut hunters; it had not yet been discovered -that the marriage ceremony required a new -introduction, based upon the scientific investigations -of the clinical laboratory, and on the same brilliant -thought that centuries ago struck the wise men of -Bohemia, who, when the population increased too -rapidly, prohibited marriages for a number of years -that proved, of course, to be the most prolific the -land had ever known.</p> - -<p>The new conception was created in a moment, in -the twinkling of an eye, by the necromancy of a -striking phrase. I do not know who it is that had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span> -the felicity to employ it first in its present relation. -I remember that long years ago, when as a boy I used -to frequent the gallery of the theater, I sat rapt -afar in the mystery and romance of life on the -Mississippi while gazing on the scenes of Bartley -Campbell’s melodrama “The White Slave.” I can -call back now, with only a little effort of the imagination -and the will, that wonderful pageant—the -<i>Natchez</i>, the <i>Robert E. Lee</i>, the great steamboats -I knew so well from Mark Twain’s book, the plantation -hands, the darkies singing on the levee, the -moonlight and the jasmine flower—and there was -no David Belasco in those days to set the scene -either, nor, for the imagination of youth, any need -of one! And then the beautiful octoroon, so lily -white and fragile that it should have been patent to -all, save perhaps an immoral slave-holder, from the -very first scene, that she had no drop of negro blood! -And the handsome and cruel owner and master, with -his slouch hat and top boots, and fierce mustache -and imperial, taking her to her awful fate down the -river! It was an old story Bartley Campbell used -for his plot, a story which had for me an added -interest, because my grandfather had told it to me -out of his own southern experiences, in those far-off -days when he had business that took him down the -river to New Orleans. And it was a story which, -for a while, in many variants of its original form, -was told all over the land to illustrate the immorality -of slavery. I suspect that it was not altogether -true in its dramatic details; surely no such number -of lovely and innocent creatures were permitted to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span> -fling themselves into the Mississippi from the hurricane -decks of steamboats as the repetitions and -variations of that tale would indicate; it would have -been altogether too harrowing to the voyagers, -some few of whom at least must have been virtuous, -and journeyed up and down on peaceful moral missions -of one sort and another. No doubt it was -symbolic of a very wrong condition, and I suppose -that is what justified it in the minds of those who -told it over and over without the trouble of verifying -its essential details. It was a good story, and -in the hands of Mr. Howells it made a good poem, -and it made surely a pretty good play, which, could -it enthrall me now as once it did by its enchantments, -I should like to see again to-night!</p> - -<p>But I doubt if I could sit through any one of the -plays that have been written or assuredly are to be -written about the white slaves of to-day. The plot -has been right at hand in the tale that has gone -the rounds of two continents, and resembles that -elder story so closely in its incidents of abduction -that I presume the adapter of its striking title to -the exigencies of current reform must have been old -enough to recognize its essential similarity to the -parent tradition. It was told in books, it served -to ornament sermons and addresses on sociological -subjects, and it has, I believe, already been done in -novels that are among the best sellers. The newspapers -printed it with all its horrific details; it was -so precisely the sort of pornography to satisfy the -American sense of news—a tale of salacity for the -prurient, palliated and rendered aseptic by efforts of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span> -officials, heated to the due degree of moral indignation, -to bring the concupiscent to justice. I had -been in England, too, when the subject was under -discussion there, and this same story was told to -such effect that Parliament, as hysterical as one -of our own state legislatures, had been led to restore -the brutality of flogging. It was always the same: -some poor girl had been abducted, borne off to a -brothel, ruined by men employed for that purpose, -turned over to aged satyrs, and never heard of more. -Of course there were variations; sometimes the girl -was lured away in a motor car, sometimes by a -request for assistance to some lady who had fainted, -sometimes by other ruses. The story was always -told vehemently, but on the authority of some inaccessible -third person, to doubt or question whom -was to be suspected of sympathy with the outrage. -But however high the station, or unimpeachable the -character of the informants, anyone who had the -slightest knowledge of the rules of evidence, unless -he were especially credulous, would have reason to -doubt the tales. In Toledo it had its vogue. It went -the rounds of gentlemen’s clubs and the tea tables -of the town, and in the curious way stories have, it -went on and on with new embellishments at each -repetition. I had a curiosity about it, not because -I cared for the realistic details that might as Pooh -Bah used to say, “lend an air of artistic verisimilitude -to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative,” -but because here was a chance to test it at -first hand, and so I asked the person most heroically -concerned to come and tell me of an experience that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span> -had earned for him the plaudits of many of his fellow -citizens and citizenesses. And so he came. He was -a social worker, as they are called, and had had the -training in settlement work which is said to qualify -young persons to deal professionally with the poor -and wicked. He was a rather good looking young -chap, with a smile about his full red lips, who lifted -his mild eyes to yours with perhaps an effort at -frankness too pronounced. He spoke well and -fluently.</p> - -<p>One night (he said) at the close of a hard day’s -work in his mission, a man came to him in evident -distress. The man was a business man, in comfortable -though modest circumstances, with a family of -which perhaps the most interesting member was a -beautiful girl of seventeen. The girl was attending -a high school, where she was in one of the advanced -classes, and the evening before had gone from school -to spend the night at the home of a friend, a girl of -her own age. The next evening, on her failure to -return home, the parents became alarmed, and after -unavailing inquiry at her schoolmate’s house, and in -other quarters, the distraught father had appealed -to the social worker. The social worker at once -caused an investigation to be made, and by a process -of elimination (as he said, though unlike Sherlock -Holmes, he did not detail the successive steps of his -logic), he concluded that the girl was in a certain -quarter of the city, in fact in a certain street. He -then sent for the father, told him to supply himself -with sufficient money, instructed him in the part he -was to play, and was careful to stipulate that if he,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span> -the social worker, were to feign drunkenness or to -indulge in conduct out of keeping with his character, -the father was patiently and trustingly to await -results. Thereupon they set forth, and before midnight -visited some thirty houses of ill fame. In the -thirty-first house the suspicions of the social worker -were confirmed, and, pretending to be intoxicated, -he invited an inmate to accompany him, and ascended -to the upper floor. He tried the doors along the -hall, and finding them all open but one, and that -locked, he lurched against it, broke it open, and on -entering the room surprised a young woman, entirely -nude, who screamed—until he muttered some word -of understanding and encouragement. Meanwhile -the inmate had summoned madame the proprietress, -who flew up the stairs, burst into the room and emptied -her revolver at the social worker.</p> - -<p>The social worker, at this supreme moment in his -recital, paused, and with a weary but reassuring -smile, as who should say such adventures were diurnal -monotonies in his life, remarked: “with no damage, -however, to anything but the furniture and the -woodwork.”</p> - -<p>But he had the girl in his arms, and, thrusting -aside foiled madame and the inmate, bore his charge -downstairs, snatched a raincoat from the hall rack, -wrapped it about her, called to the father to come, -and escaped into the street.</p> - -<p>After the rescued girl had been restored to her -home, and sufficiently recovered from her terrible -experience to give a connected account of herself, she -related the following incidents: Leaving school on<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span> -that night she had started for the home of the girl -whom she was to visit—the girl not having attended -school that day—and while passing a house in a -respectable residential district, about five o’clock of -the winter evening, darkness already having fallen, -a woman came to the door and in great distress told -the girl that a baby was sick, that she was alone, -and implored the girl to come in and care for the -baby while she ran for a doctor. The girl complied, -and on reaching the door, was immediately seized, -drawn into the hallway, her cries smothered by a -hand in which there was a handkerchief saturated -with chloroform, and she knew no more until she regained -consciousness in the place where the social -worker had rescued her.</p> - -<p>Here his direct recital ended. I put to him two -or three questions: Who is the girl? Where is she -now? Where is the house into which she was beguiled? -Where is the brothel in which she was -imprisoned? He had answers for all these. The -girl’s name could not be divulged, even in official -confidence, for the family could not risk publicity; -the house where she had been summoned to care for -the ailing baby was the home of wealthy and respectable -people, who had been out of town at the -time, and their residence had been broken into and -used temporarily by the white slavers. As for the -brothel, the social worker, by methods he did not -disclose, had compelled the proprietress to leave the -city, and the place was closed.</p> - -<p>Such was the amazing adventure of the social -worker. It was easy to imagine the effect of it when<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> -related to neurotic women, to prurient and sentimental -men, and in country churches to gaping -yokels curious about “life” in the city. It was easy -to understand the effect it would have on minds -starved and warped by Puritanism, ready for any -sensation, especially one that might stimulate their -moral emotions, and give them one more excuse for -condemning the police. No wonder certain of the -elect brethren in gratitude for having been told just -what they wished to hear had contributed hundreds -of dollars, that the “work” might go on!</p> - -<p>I determined, therefore, that in one instance, at -least, the truth as to this stock story should be discovered, -and I requested Mr. Mooney, the Director -of Public Safety, to make a complete investigation. -He detailed to the task the best of his detectives; -the inspectors of the federal government under the -white slave laws were called in, and I asked two -clergymen of my acquaintance who knew the social -worker and said they believed him, to give what aid -they could. Together they worked for weeks. They -made an exhaustive investigation, and their conclusion, -in which the clergymen joined, was that there -was not the slightest ground for the silly tale.</p> - -<p>It was, of course, simply another variant of the -story that had gone the rounds of the two continents, -a story which had been somehow psychologically -timed to meet the hysteria which the pulpit, -the press, and the legislatures had displayed, as had -the people, in one of those strange moral movements -which now and then seize upon the public mind, and, -in effect, make the whole population into a mob,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span> -which is, of coarse, the most moral thing in the -world. The subject was investigated in England -and it was shown that not one of the stories told in -this cause there had any foundation in fact.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> So -far as I know, no authentic verification of the story -in any of its forms has ever been made. And yet it -was the stock in trade of the professional moralists -and was employed by them in two continents to generate -that hysteria without which they cannot carry -on their reforms. It was repeated and accepted—that -is all, and to doubt it was to make oneself -<i>particeps criminis</i>, a sort of accessory after the -fact.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">XLIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It is a subject which only the student of morbid -psychology, I suppose, can illuminate properly, but -I fancy he would find somewhere a significance in -the phrase “white slave,” when acted upon by minds -that had never been refined enough to imagine any -but the grossest of objective crimes, and out of all -this there arose a new conception of the prostitute -quite as grotesque as that which it replaced. She -was no longer the ruined and abandoned thing she -once was, too vile for any contact with the virtuous -and respectable; she no longer occupied even the -sacrificial pose in which Cato centuries ago and -Lecky in our own time figured her; she was not even -that daughter of joy whose dalliance is the secret<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span> -despair of moralists too prudent to imitate her -abandon; she became the white slave, a shanghaied -innocent kept under lock and key. And thousands -and thousands of her sisters were said to be trapped -every year in precisely the same way by the minions -of a huge system, organized like any modern combination -of rapacity and evil, with luxurious headquarters, -presumably in some sky-scraper in New -York, and its own attorneys, agents, kidnappers, -crimpers, seducers, panderers and procuresses all -over the land, a vast and complicated organization, -with baffling ramifications in all the high and low -places of the earth. The sensational newspapers referred -to it as “the white slave syndicate,” as though -it were as authentic as the steel trust or Standard -Oil. It was even said that somewhere in New York -the trust conducted a daily auction! With such a -bizarre notion, the victims of their own psychic lasciviousness -became obsessed. Raids and “revivals” -must be inaugurated, a body of new laws enacted, -and a horde of official inspectors, agents and detectives -turned loose on the land, empowered to arrest -any man and woman traveling together, and hold the -man guilty of a felony.</p> - -<p>To be sure, it was something to have the conception -change. It was something that the prostitute -should at last be regarded with some touch of human -pity. And it was something, a great deal, indeed, -that there was, with all the fanatical and zealous -law making, some quiet study of the problem. The -word “economic,” so long scorned by the proponents -of an absolute morality, somehow penetrated the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span> -public consciousness, and at last it dawned on the -human mind that prostitution is related to economic -pressure. But, unfortunately, by the familiar -human process, the mind leaped to extremes; it was -assumed that all prostitutes were girls who did not -receive sufficient wages, and the simple and all sufficient -cure was to be the minimum wage; instead of -receiving eight dollars a week and going to the bad, -all working girls were to be paid nine dollars a week -and remain virtuous. And of course new work for -the constable was cut out; if the employers of girls -did not pay them that much, they were all to go to -jail, and if the girls did not remain chaste after they -had been assured of that splendid income, they -must go to the pillory for the godly to spit at. -This, with the laws against white slavery, was to be -the panacea, and prostitution, a problem which had -perplexed the thoughtful for thirty centuries, was -to be solved before the autumn primaries, so that -those who solved it might get their political rewards -promptly.</p> - -<p>I used to wish, when it was presented to me as -mayor, that some of these cock-sure persons who -would solve the problem off-hand by issuing a general -order to the police, could get themselves elected -to the opportunity. Of course I issued no general -order on the subject; perhaps I was too skeptical, -too much lacking in faith in the miraculous powers -of the constabulary. Our city was like all cities; -there were prostitutes in brothels, prostitutes in -saloons, prostitutes in flats, prostitutes on the -streets at night. There were, for instance, a score<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span> -or more of disorderly saloons where men and women -congregated. But we found that merely by posting -a policeman in uniform before such a place, its -patronage was discouraged, and in a few days discontinued. -Of course it was a dangerous and preposterous -power to wield; in the hands of unscrupulous -police it might have appalling possibilities of -evil. I had the idea of stationing a policeman before -a disorderly house from Tom Johnson, who told me -he had it from his father—who was Chief of Police -in Louisville. And so we adopted it, and after a -while the wine rooms were no more. And that was -something. But the girls in them, of course, had to -go somewhere, just as Jones said.</p> - -<p>Then we found that the police, if they were brutal -enough, could drive the girls off the streets. It -seemed to me always a despicable sort of business—the -actions of the police I mean; I didn’t like to -hear the reports of it; I don’t like to think of it, -or write of it even now. It is not very creditable -to make war on women, whatever the Puritans may -say. But the streets would show an improvement, -even they would admit; much as they might linger -and loiter and leer, the most seductively pure of -them could not get himself “accosted” anywhere -down town at night. Of course, after a while, the -poor things would come back, or others exactly like -them would come. Then the police would have to -practice their brutalities all over again. Perhaps -they were not brutal enough; I am not certain. To -be sure they were not as brutal as Augustus with his -sumptuary laws, or as Theodosius, or Valentinian,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span> -or Justinian, or Karl the Great, or Peter the Great, -or St. Louis, or Frederick Barbarossa, or the Empress -Maria Theresa in Vienna, or as John Calvin -in Geneva, or Cotton Mather in Massachusetts, with -all their tortures and floggings and rackings and -brandings and burnings; or as the English Puritans -who used to have bawds whipped, pilloried, branded -and imprisoned and for a second offense put to -death. And even they were not brutal enough, it -seems, since prostitution went right on down the -centuries to our times. I suppose that we might -have learned from their failures that prostitution -could not be ended by physical force and brutality. -However, when the girls were driven from the streets, -inasmuch as the police did not despatch them, they -still had to go somewhere, and the brothels remained. -They had their own quarter and if it was not a segregated -quarter it was something very like it, since the -police bent their efforts to rid other portions of the -city of such places. It was perhaps a tolerated -rather than a segregated district, and after a while -the Director of Public Safety wished to try the experiment -of making it a regulated district as well. -I felt that the world was too old and I found myself -too much of its mood to hope that any good could -come from any of the efforts of policemen to dispose -of such a problem, but I was glad of any experiment -conducted in sincerity that might make for -the better, and accordingly the Director of Safety -put his scheme into operation. It was not <i>reglementation</i> -in the exact European sense, since the temper -of our American people will not acquiesce in that,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span> -and, as I discovered by some inquiries of my own in -the principal cities of Europe, it is not of very valid -effect over there. But the Director adopted most -of the familiar requirements of the Parisian <i>reglement</i>, -except the examinations, and the registration -of those not <i>en maison</i>; he required the -proprietresses to report at police headquarters the -presence of new inmates; he forbade them to have -minors or male parasites in the houses, and as far -as possible he separated the business from the saloon -business. Any house which ignored his orders found -a policeman posted before it; then it came to time. -The result was, as Mr. Mooney could report in the -course of a year, that the number of brothels had -been reduced from over two hundred to thirty and -the number of prostitutes of whom the police had -any knowledge, in an equal proportion. He was -very proud when General Bingham complimented his -policemen and their policing, as he was at similar -compliments from the government’s white slave -agents.</p> - -<p>Superficially this was a very gratifying report, -but only superficially. Five-sixths of the brothels -had been closed, but their inmates had to go somewhere, -just as Jones said, and the police found that -clandestine prostitution had proportionately increased; -the women had gone into flats, or hotels, or -residences which on occasion could be made to serve -as assignation houses. It may perhaps have improved -the life of the prostitute, made it freer and -more human, or perhaps it indicated that prostitution -in America is showing a decadent tendency<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span> -toward refinement. But while they had reduced the -number of houses of prostitution, the police discovered -that they had not reduced prostitution in the -least, and when, after a trial of four years, I asked -the Director and the Chief of Police what the result -of the experiment had been, they said that, aside -from the fact that it seemed to make for order in -the city, and simplified the work of policing, it had -done no good.</p> - -<p>The experience was like that of Chicago, where -after a police order prohibiting the sale of liquor in -houses of prostitution, it was found—according to -the report of the vice commission—to be “undoubtedly -true that the result of the order has been -to scatter the prostitutes over a wide territory and -to transfer the sale of liquor carried on heretofore -in houses to the near-by saloon keepers, and to -flats and residential sections, but it is an open -question whether it has resulted in the lessening -of either of the two evils of prostitution and -drink.”</p> - -<p>The experience, I think, is probably universal. I -used to hear the systems of regulation used in European -cities held up as models by the pessimistic as -the only practical method of dealing with the problem. -Paris was commonly considered as the ideal -in this respect; latterly it is apt to be Berlin. But -the fact is that the <i>reglementation</i> which for years -and years has been in force in Paris is a failure; the -experience there was precisely what it was in our -little city. And from Berlin, which the well-known -German genius for organization has made the most<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> -efficiently governed city in the world, the same failure -has been reported.</p> - -<p>In England, on the other hand, there is no regulation; -any evening along Piccadilly, one may see -street walkers whom the police never dream of molesting. -It is in part due to the traditional Puritanic -attitude of our northern race, and partly to the respect -for personal liberty that exists in England. -There the principle is much more scrupulously respected -than with us, with whom individual liberty -indeed, is hardly a principle at all. With us the -phrase “personal liberty” is regarded merely as a -shibboleth of brewers and distillers, an evidence on -the part of him who employs it that he is a besotted -slave to drink and an unscrupulous minion of the -rum power. The interferences practiced daily by -our policemen are unknown there, and if, for instance, -it should even be proposed that an enactment -like that in Oklahoma limiting the amount of -liquor a man may keep in his own house, and providing -that agents of the state may enter his domicile -at will and make a search, and especially if in -the remotest region of the British Isles there should -be an instance of what Walt Whitman calls “the -never ending audacity of elected persons,” such as -is of daily occurrence in that state where these -agents enter railway trains and slit open the valises -of travelers in their quest of the stuff, the whole of -the question hour the next afternoon in the House -of Commons would be occupied with indignant interpellations -of the home secretary and the <i>Times</i> could -not contain all the letters that would be written.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>Other lands have made other experiments, but -everywhere and in all times the same failure has -been recorded, from the efforts of Greece to control -the <i>hetaerae</i> and <i>dicteriades</i> and the severe regulations -of ancient Rome, down to the latest reform -administration in an American city. Nothing that -mankind has ever tried has been of the slightest -avail. And now come the vice commissions with -their pornographic reports, and no doubt feeling -that they have to propose something after all the -trouble they have gone to, when they have set forth -in tabulated statistics what everybody in the world -already knows, they repeat the old ineptitudes. -That is, more law, more hounding by the police.</p> - -<p>The Chicago product is the classic and the -model for all of these, and as the latest and loftiest -triumph of the Puritan mind in the realm of morals -and of law, a triumph for which three centuries of -innocence of nothing save humor alone could have -prepared it, its own great masterpiece in morals -was at once forbidden circulation in the mails because -of its immorality!</p> - -<p>The problem cannot be solved by policemen, -even if—as is now recommended—they be called -“morals” police. The word has a reassuring note -of course, possibly by some confused with “moral” -police, but policemen are policemen still. I have seen -the <i>police des moeurs</i> in European cities, and they -look quite like other policemen. And all cities -in America have had morals police; that is exactly -what our policemen have been, and that is exactly -what is the matter with them. That is, all cities have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span> -had detectives especially detailed to supervise the -conduct of the vicious, and they always fail. We -had such a squad in Toledo for years, though it -was not called morals police. It was composed of -men, mere men, because we had nothing else but -men to detail to the work. They were honest, decent, -self-respecting men for the most part, who on -the whole did very well considering the salaries they -were paid and the task imposed on them. They regulated -vice as well as anybody anywhere could regulate -it. But of course they failed to solve the problem, -just as the world for thousands of years has -failed to solve it, with all the machinery of all the -laws of all the lawgivers in history. Solon in -Athens tried every known device, including segregation. -He established a state monopoly of houses -of prostitution, confined the <i>dicteriades</i> to a certain -quarter of the city, and compelled them to wear a -distinctive dress, but all his stringent laws had -broken down long before Hyperides dramatically -bared the breast of Phryne to the Areopagus. In -Rome there was the most severe regulation in -the ancient world and yet—it may be read in Gibbon—the -successive experiments of the law under -Augustus, Tiberius, Caligula, Valerian, Theodosius -and Justinian were all failures, and when the laws -were most rigorous and the most rigorously enforced, -immorality was at its height. Charlemagne -tried and failed, and though the sentiment of the -age of chivalry and the rise of Christianity for a -while softened the law, under the English Puritans, -bawds were whipped, pilloried, branded and imprisoned,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span> -and for a second offense put to death. France -was not behind; under Louis IX., prostitutes were -exiled, and in 1635 an edict in Paris condemned men -concerned in the traffic to the galleys for life, while -the women and girls were whipped, shaved and banished -for life. Charles V. in the monastery at Yuste, -trying to make two clocks tick in union, found his -efforts no more vain than his attempts to regulate -human conduct, and Philip II. tried again to do -what his father had been unable to accomplish. -Peter the Great was a grim enforcer of the laws, -and in Vienna Maria Theresa was most rigorous -with prostitutes, putting them in a certain garb, and -then in handcuffs; she was almost as remorseless -in her treatment of them as was John Calvin in -Geneva, which came to have more prostitutes proportionately -than any other city in Europe. Several -modern attempts at annihilation have been -made. Saxony tried to do away with prostitutes, -but they exist in Dresden and other cities of the -Kingdom and Hamburg claims to have banished -them, but in that Free and Hanseatic city I was told -by an American who was investigating the subject -that there were as many there as elsewhere.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">L</h2> -</div> - - -<p>And these laws have not only failed, they have -not only stimulated and intensified the evil, but they -themselves have created a white slavery worse than -that of the preposterous tales and sentimental twaddle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span> -that circulate among the neurotic, a white slavery -worse than any ever imagined by the most romanticistic -of the dime novelists or by the most superheated -of the professional reformers. Every one -of these laws has been devised, written and enacted -in the identical spirit with which the Puritans in -Massachusetts branded the red letter on the scarlet -woman. Every one of them is an element of that -brutal and amazing conspiracy by which society -makes of the girl who once “goes wrong,” to use -the lightest of our animadversions, a pariah more -abhorred and shunned than if she were a rotting -leper on the cliffs of Molokai. She may be human, -alive, with the same feelings that all the other girls -in the world have; she may have within her the same -possibilities, life may mean exactly the same thing -to her, she may have youth with all its vague and -beautiful longings, but society thunders at her such -final and awful words as “lost,” “abandoned,” -thrusts her beyond its pale, and causes her to feel -that thereafter forever and forever, there is literally -no chance of redemption for her; home, society, -companionship, hope itself, all shut their obdurate -doors in her face. In all the world there are just -two places she may go, the brothel, or the river, -and even if she choose the latter, that choice, too, is -a sin. She is “lost” and the awful and appalling -lie is thundered in her astonished ears by the united -voices of a prurient and hypocritical society with -such indomitable force and persistence that she -must believe it herself, and acquiesce in its dread -finality. And there is no course open to her but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span> -to go on in sin to the end of days whose only mercy -is that they are apt to be brief. No off-hand moralist, -even by exercising his imagination to the last -degree of cruelty, has ever been able to devise such -a prison as that. White slave, indeed, shackled by -the heaviest chains the Puritan conscience has yet -been able to forge for others!</p> - -<p>Strange, too, since the attitude is assumed by a -civilization which calls itself Christian and preaches -that the old law, with its eye for an eye and its -tooth for a tooth, was done away with and lost in a -new and beautiful dispensation. “Neither do I condemn -thee; go, and sin no more.” If the world is -ever to solve this problem, it must first of all apprehend -the spirit of this simple and gracious expression, -do away with its old laws, its old cruelties, its -old brutalities, its old stupidities, and approach the -problem in that human spirit which I suspect is so -very near the divine. Once in this attitude, this -spirit, society will be in position to learn something -from history and from human experience, something -from life itself, and what it will learn first is that -Puritanical laws, the hounding of the police, and -all that sort of thing have never lessened prostitution -in the world, but on the contrary have increased -it.</p> - -<p>What! Let them go and not do anything to -them? Well, yes, if we can’t think of anything -better to do to them than to hurt them a little -more, push them a little farther along the road to -that abyss toward which we have been hustling -them. Why is it constantly necessary to do something<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span> -<i>to</i> people? If we can’t do anything for them, -when are we going to learn to let them alone? Or -must this incessant interference, this meddling, this -mauling and manhandling, go on in the world forever -and ever?</p> - -<p>As to what is to be done about it, since all that -ever has been attempted has been so much worse in -its effect than if we had never done anything, I -suppose I need not feel so very much ashamed of -confessing my ignorance and saying that I do not -know. If it were left to me I think the first thing -I should do is to repeal all the criminal laws -on the subject, beginning with that most savage -enactment the Puritan conscience ever devised, -namely, the law declaring certain children “illegitimate,” -a piece of stupid brutality and cruelty that -would make a gorilla blush with shame if it were -even suggested in the African jungle.</p> - -<p>Yes, the first thing to do is to repeal all the criminal -laws on the subject. They do no good, and even -when it is attempted to enforce them, the result is -worse than futile. I myself, with my own eyes, in -the old police court where I have witnessed so many -squalid tragedies, have seen a magistrate fine a -street walker and then suspend the fine so that, as -he explained to her in all judicial seriousness, she -might go out and “earn” enough money to come -back and pay it! And not a person in the court -room, so habituated and conventionalized are we -all, ever cracked a smile or apparently saw anything -out of the way—least of all the street walker!</p> - -<p>But it would not be enough simply to repeal these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span> -laws from the statute books of the state; it will be -necessary to accomplish the immensely more difficult -task of repealing them from the human heart, where -they were written long ago in anger, and hatred, -and jealousy and cruelty and fear, that is in the -heat of all the baser passions. What I am trying -to say is that the first step in any reasonable and -effective reform is an entire change of attitude on -the subject, and about the only good to be expected -from the agitation about white slavery, with -all its preposterous exaggeration and absurd sensationalism -is that it is perhaps making for a -changed attitude, a new conception; if it will accomplish -nothing more than to get the public mind—if -there is a public mind, and not a mere public -passion—to view the prostitute as a human being, -very much like all the other human beings in the -world, it will have been worth all it has cost in energy -and emotion and credulity. If this sort of -repeal can be made effective, if the prostitute can -be assured of some chance in life outside the dead -line which society so long ago drew for her, the first -step will have been taken.</p> - -<p>The next step possibly will be the erection of a -single standard of morals. And this cannot be done -by passing a law, or by turning in an alarm for the -police. That means thinking, too, and education, -and evolution, and all the other slow and toilsome -processes of which the off-hand reformers are so -impatient. This single standard will have to be -raised first in each individual heart; after that it -will become the attitude of the general mind.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span>And then the commerce in vice will have to be -stopped. I do not mean prohibited by penal laws -alone. Policemen cannot stop it, and policemen -should have no more to do with it than firemen. In -fact much of the commerce has proceeded from the -fact that its regulation has been entrusted to the -police. It should be a subject for the fiscal laws. It -is, I assume, known by most persons that the owners -of the dilapidated tenements in which for the most -part prostitution is carried on, because of the -“risk,” extort exorbitant rentals for them, and then -on the ground that they can rent them to no one of -respectability, they hold them to be so worthless -that they pay little if any taxes on them. Our -present tax laws of course have the effect of rewarding -the slothful, the lazy and the idle, and of -punishing the energetic and the enterprising producer -in business, and it would be quite possible to -revise the tax laws so that tenderloins would be -economically impossible, because they would cease -to be profitable.</p> - -<p>In the next place, or some place in the program, -there should be some sort of competent and judicious -sex education. I do not know just who -would impart it, since no one as yet knows very -much about it, but with the earnest, sincere and -devoted work that is being carried on all over the -world by the scientific men and women who are -studying eugenics and social hygiene, there is hope -in this direction, even if it is probable that the -world will not be saved by the new race of athletes -that are scientifically to be bred, and may still have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span> -some use in its affairs for the minds of its cripples -who in all times have contributed so much to its -advancement.</p> - -<p>The marvelous phenomenon known as the feminist -movement which the students and historians of -the next two hundred years will be busy elucidating -will play its part, too, for in its vast impulse toward -the equality of the sexes it must not only bring the -single standard of morals, but it should somehow be -the means of achieving for women their economic -independence. This perhaps would be the most important -of all the steps to be taken in the solution -of the problem. The economic environment of course -is in the lives of many girls a determining factor -and in this connection the minimum wage indeed -has its bearing. The old Puritan laws were conceived -in minds intensely preoccupied with the duty -of punishing people for their sins. Prostitutes were -prostitutes because they were “bad,” and when -people were bad they must be punished. But now -we see, or begin to see, if vaguely, that, except in -metaphysics, there is no such thing in our complex -human life as an absolute good or an absolute bad; -we begin to discern dimly the causes of some of the -conduct called bad, and to the problem of evil we -begin to apply the conception of economic influences, -social influences, pathological influences, and -other influences most of us know little or nothing -about.</p> - -<p>Thus we begin to see that a girl’s wages, for instance, -may have something to do with what we call -her morals; not everything, but something. The<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span> -wages of a girl’s father have something to do with -them, too, and the wages of her great grandfather -for the matter of that. So the dividends on which -live the delicate and charming ladies she beholds -alighting from their motor cars every morning in -the shopping district may have something to do with -them, though she is as unconscious and as innocent -of the relation as they, as ignorant as all of us are. -Rents have something to do with them, and so do -taxes.</p> - -<p>But after the whole economic system has been re-adjusted -and perfected and equalized, after we have -the minimum wage, and the single tax, and industrial -democracy, and every man gets what he produces, -and economic pressure has been as scientifically adjusted -as the atmospheres in a submarine torpedo -boat, there is always the great law of the contrariety -of things to be reckoned with, according -to which the more carefully planned the event, the -less it resembles the original conception. The human -vision is so weak, and the great circle of life -so prodigious! The solution will come, if it ever -comes at all, by slow, patient, laborious, drudging -study, far from the midnight session of the legislature, -far from the ear and the pencil of the eager -reporter, far from the platform of the sweating revivalist, -far from the head office of the police. Our -fondly perused pornography might expose the whole -of the underworld to the light of day, the general -assembly might enact successive revisions of the revised -statutes for a hundred years, we might develop -the most superb police organization in all history,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span> -achieving the apotheosis of the Puritan ideal with a -dictagraph in every bedroom and closet in the town, -and it all would be of no avail. The study must -survey the whole field of social and domestic relations, -until the vast mystery of life is understood, -and the relation between its wide antitheses established -as Tolstoy presents them in his story of -the poor mother who took her daughter to the public -house in the village, and the rich mother who, at -the same time, took her daughter to the court at -St. Petersburg. It will be found perhaps in the -long run, for which so few are ever willing to remain, -that the eradicable causes of prostitution are -due to involuntary poverty, and the awful task is -to get involuntary poverty out of the world. It -is a task which has all the tremendous difficulties of -constructive social labor and it is as deliberate as -evolution itself. And even if it is ever accomplished, -there will remain a residuum in the problem inhering -in the mysteries of sex, concerning which even the -wisest and most devoted of our scientists will confess -they know very little as yet and have not much -to tell us that will do us any good.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>In taking the present occasion to say so much -about the work in morals which a mayor is expected -to perform, I have a disquieting sense that I have -fallen into a tone too querulous for the subject, and -perhaps taken a mean advantage of the reader in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span> -telling of my troubles. It is rather a troubled life -that a mayor leads in one of these turbulent American -cities, since so much of his time is taken up by -reformers who seem to expect him somehow to do -their holy work for them, and yet that is doubtless -the business of reformers in this world, and since -it is their mission to trouble someone, perhaps it -is the business of a mayor to be troubled by them -in his vicarious and representative capacity. I -should not deny reformers their rights in this respect, -or their uses in this world, and I should be -the last to question their virtues. John Brown was -beyond doubt a strong character and an estimable -man, who did a great and heroic work in the world, -even if he did do it in opposition to the law, and -by the law was killed at last for doing it, but by all -accounts he must have been a terrible person to live -with, and I have often been glad that I was not -mayor of Ossawattomie when he was living and reforming -there. I would as soon have had Peter the -Hermit for a constituent.</p> - -<p>I shall not go quite so far as to admit that our -reformers were as strong in character as either of -these great models I have mentioned, but they were -as persistent, or in combination they were as persistent; -when one tired or desisted, another promptly -took his place; there were so many that they could -spell each other, and work in relays, and thus keep -the torch ever alive and brandishing. It was not -only the social evil with which they were concerned, -but the evil of drink, and the evil of gambling, and -the evil of theaters, and the evil of moving pictures,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span> -and post cards, and of the nude in art, and of lingerie -in show windows, and of boys swimming in the -river, and playing in the streets, and scores of other -conditions which seemed to inspire in them the fear -or the thought of evil.</p> - -<p>With the advent of spring, the mayor must put -a stop to lovers wandering in the parks; when summer -comes he must put an end instantly to baseball; -in the winter he must close the theaters and the -dance halls; in short, as I said before, whenever it -was reported from any quarter that there were people -having fun, the police must instantly be despatched -to put a stop to it.</p> - -<p>And strangely enough, even when we did succeed -in doing away with some of the evils of the town, -when we closed the saloons promptly at midnight, -the hour fixed by ordinance, when we did away with -many evil resorts, when wine rooms were extirpated, -and the number of <i>maisons de tolerance</i> were reduced -by eighty-five per cent., when gambling was -stamped out, their complaints did not subside, but -went on, unabated, the same as before. They could -not be satisfied because the whole of their impossible -program was not adopted, and more because -there was no public recognition of their infallibility -and no admission of their righteousness. What that -type of mind desires is not, after all, any reasonable -treatment of those conditions, or any honest -and sincere endeavor to deal with them. It demands -intellectual surrender, the acknowledgment of its infallibility, -and a protesting hypocrite can more -easily meet its views than anyone else.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>No wonder then that even such a strong man as -Tom Johnson, one evening, when the day was done, -should fling himself back in the motor car, with the -dark shadow of utter weariness and despair on his -face, and say:</p> - -<p>“I wish I could take a train to the end of the longest -railway in the world, then go as far as wagons -could draw me and then walk and crawl as far as I -could, and then in the midst of the farthest forest -lie down and rest.”</p> - -<p>We all have such moments, of course, but we -should have fewer of them if we had a national trait -of which I have read, in a book by Mr. Fielding Hall -in relation to Burma. He says the Burmese have -a vast unwillingness to interfere in other people’s -affairs.</p> - -<p>“A foreigner may go and live in a Burman village,” -he says, “may settle down there and live his -own life and follow his own customs in perfect freedom; -may dress and eat and drink and pray and -die as he likes. No one will interfere. No one will -try to correct him; no one will be forever insisting -to him that he is an outcast, either from civilization -or from religion. The people will accept him for -what he is and leave the matter there. If he likes -to change his ways and conform to Burmese habits -and Buddhist forms, so much the better; but if not, -never mind.”</p> - -<p>What a hell Burma would be for the Puritan! -And what a heaven for everybody else! Perhaps we -would all better go live there.</p> - -<p>These things, however, should be no part of a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span> -mayor’s business, and perhaps I may justify my -speaking of them by saying that I spoke of them -principally to make that point clear. They and -some other problems that may or may not be foreign -to his duties, have the effect of keeping a mayor -from his real work which is or should be, the administration -of the communal affairs of the city, and -not the regulation of the private affairs of the people -in it. It is quite impossible to imagine any -work more delightful than this administration. -Hampered in it as one is by politicians, who regard -every question from the viewpoint of the parish -pump, it is nevertheless inspiring to be concerned -about great works of construction regarding the -public comfort and convenience, the public health -and the public amenities. It is in such work that -one may catch a glimpse of the vast possibilities of -our democracy, of which our cities are the models -and the hope.</p> - -<p>I have observed in Germany that the mayors of -the cities there are not burdened by these extraneous -issues, and I think that that is the reason the German -cities are the most admirably administered in -the world. Perhaps I should say governed, too, -though that is hardly correct, since the governing -there is done by the state through its own officials. -I have not been in Germany often enough or remained -long enough to be able to assert that government, -in its effect for good, is quite as much a -superstition as it is everywhere; mere political government, -I mean, which seems to be so implicitly -for the selfish benefit of those who do the governing.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> -But the administration of public affairs is so entirely -another matter, that it is as beautiful, at -least in its possibilities as government is ugly in -its actualities, and it is precisely because there has -been so much insistence on government in our cities -that there is as yet so little administration, and -that so inefficient.</p> - -<p>In Germany the burgomeister is not chosen for -his political views, or for his theories of any sort, or -for his popularity; he is chosen because of his ability -for the work he is to perform, and he is retained -in office as long as he performs that work properly. -It is so with all municipal departments and the result -is order and efficient administration. When a -German city wants a mayor, it seeks one by inquiring -among other cities; sometimes it advertises for -him. It would be quite impossible, of course, for -our cities to advertise for mayors, not that there -would be any lack of applicants, since everyone is -considered capable of directing the affairs of a city -in this country. Of course everyone is not capable; -few of the persons chosen are capable at the time -they are chosen. Many of them become very capable -after they have had experience, but they gain this -experience at the expense of the public, and about -the time they have gained it, their services are dispensed -with, and a new incompetent accidentally -succeeds them.</p> - -<p>The condition is due partly to the fact that we -are of a tradition that is concerned with governing -exclusively, and not administering; our conception -is of an executive, a kind of lieutenant or subaltern<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span> -of the sovereign power, and in our proverbial fear -and jealousy of kings we see that he does not have -too much power or develop those powers he has by a -long tenure of office.</p> - -<p>The officials of a German city are pure administrators, -and nothing else; they are not governors -or censors. They are not charged in fact with police -powers at all. And if they were, they would -not have questions of such delicacy to meet, for the -police there are for the purpose of protecting life -and property, and they are not expected to regulate -the personal conduct and refine the morals of the -community, or to rear the young. They have not -confused their functions with the <i>censores mores</i> of -old Rome, or like us, with the beadles of New England -villages of colonial times. That is, the Puritan -spirit is not known there, at least in the intensified -acerbity in which it exists with us; moral problems, -oddly enough, are left to parents, teachers or pastors. -The police over there are generally a part of -the military organizations. It would be better of -course, to bear the ills we have than to transplant -any military system to our soil, for state police in -America would become mere Cossacks employed to -keep the laboring population in subjection. But if -the state is to undertake to regulate the moral conduct -of the inhabitants of cities, it should provide all -the means of regulation and take all the responsibility, -including the onus of violating the democratic -principle. If the state is to regenerate the land by -the machinery of morals police, it should have its -own morals police, tell them just how to proceed to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span> -compel the inhabitants of cities to be moral, and pay -them out of the state treasury.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="LII">LII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It is, however, a curious characteristic of our -people, or of the vocal minority of them, that while -they insist on every possible interference with every -private and personal right, in the field of moral -conduct, they nevertheless will tolerate no interference -whatever with property rights. Thus it was -precisely as Cossacks that many employers of labor -insisted on my using the police to cow their workmen -whenever there was a strike.</p> - -<p>During my first term it befell that our city was -torn by strikes, all the union machinists in town -walked out, then the moulders, and at last a great -factory wherein automobiles were made was -“struck,” as the workingmen say. It is impossible -to give an idea of the worry such a condition causes -officials. It is more than that sensation of weariness, -of irritation, even of disgust, which it causes -the general public. This is due partly to the resentment -created by the interference with physical -comfort, and even peace of mind, since there -is in us all something more than a fear of disorder -and tumult, in that innate love of harmony which -exists potentially in humanity. But to the official -there is a greater difficulty because of the responsibility -to which he is held. People intuitively regard -strikers as public enemies, and while the blame<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span> -for the irritation caused by strikes is visited on the -direct and apparent cause, that is, the strikers themselves; -it is visited, too, on the official head of the -local government, who is supposed to be able somehow -to put a stop to such things. The general or -mass intelligence will not as yet go much deeper -than the superfices of the problem, or seek to understand -the causes of economic unrest and disorder; -it still thinks in old sequences and puts its trust in -the weapons of the flesh.</p> - -<p>I think I shall never forget the first call I had -from a delegation of manufacturers during the early -days of those strikes. They came in not too friendly -spirit, but rather in their capacity of “citizens -and tax-payers,” standing on their rights, as they -understood them, though they in common with -most of us and with the law as well, had only -the most hazy notions as to what those rights -were, and perhaps still hazier notions as to their -duties. “We come,” said the spokesman, “representing -two millions of dollars’ worth of property.”</p> - -<p>They could not have put their case more frankly. -But I, as I was able to recall in that moment, represented -two hundred thousand people, themselves -among them of course. And here at the very outset -was the old conflict in its simplest terms, of man -against property. Now, in that old struggle, while I -had made no sacrifices in the cause and have been of -no especial service in it, I had nevertheless given intellectual -assent to the general propositions advanced -in favor of the human side, the side of man.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span> -By prejudice, or perversity, or constitutionally, I -considered men of more value than factories. I had -perhaps never heard of a strike, for instance, in -which my sympathies were not impulsively with the -strikers. I could always see that poor foreigner, -whose body had lain there on the cold damp rocks -at Lemont so many years before, and somehow I -could not get out of my mind’s eye the figures of -the workmen on strike, many of them hungry and -desperate as their wives and children were; they -seemed to me to be in straits more dire than their -harried and harassed and worried employers, though -I could feel sorry for them, too, since even if they -were not hungry, they, too, were the victims of the -anarchy of our industrial system. They had of -course no social conscience whatever, but perhaps -they could not help that. But there they were, -bringing their troubles to the mayor, whom perhaps -they did not wholly regard as their mayor, since -they had some prescience of the fact that in that -mayor’s mind was always the memory of those -throngs of workingmen who had looked up to him -with some of the emotions of confidence and hope. -There was alas little enough that he could do for -those workingmen, but, especially in such an hour, -he must at least not forget them. Of the relative -rights of their present quarrel he had little knowledge; -but he had envisaged enough of life to know, -without too much sentimentalizing them, that, while -they were often wrong, they were somehow right -when they were wrong. That is, their eternal cause -was right.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>What the manufacturers wanted, as they put it, -was “protection,” a term with vague and varying -connotations. As was the case in all the strikes of -all the years of my experience in the mayoralty, they -felt that the police were not sufficiently aggressive, -or that the Chief of Police had not detailed sufficient -men to afford them protection. I did not raise the -question, though it occurred to me, as to what the -police were doing to protect the strikers, who were -citizens, too, and tax-payers, or at least rent-payers -and so indirect tax-payers, but when I asked the -Chief, the big-hearted Perry Knapp reported that -the strikers were complaining, too, and out of his -collection of works on Lincoln, he brought me one -which contained a letter the great president wrote -to General John M. Schofield, when he assigned that -officer to the command of the Department of the Missouri, -in May, 1863, to succeed General Curtis. -Curtis had been the head of one party as Governor -Gamble had been the head of the other, in what -Lincoln called the pestilent factional quarrel into -which the Union men had entered. “Now that you -are in the position,” wrote Lincoln, “I wish you to -undo nothing merely because General Curtis or Governor -Gamble did it, but to exercise your own judgment, -and do right for the public interest. Let your -military measures be strong enough to repel the invader -and keep the peace, and not so strong as to -unnecessarily harass and persecute the people. It is -a difficult rôle, and so much the greater will be the -honor if you perform it well. If both factions, or -neither, shall abuse you, you will probably be about<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span> -right. Beware of being assailed by one and praised -by the other.”</p> - -<p>How Lincoln knew human nature! It seemed as -good a model as one might find, since we, too, were -in the midst of a little civil war, and we always tried -to pursue that course. What the manufacturing -employers wished, of course, was for us to use the -police to break the strike; that we did not deem -it our duty to do. What we tried to do was to -preserve the public peace and—since our industry -in its present status is war—to let them fight it -out. We tried to see to it that they fought it out -along the lines laid down, in fixing the relative rights -of the industrial belligerents, by the Courts of Great -Britain, and this policy had the virtual approval of -our own courts when in an ancillary way it came -under discussion there. But we had difficulty in -maintaining the peace, not only because the strikers, -or more likely their sympathizers, broke it now -and then, but because when the strikers were not -breaking it, the employers seemed bent on doing -something to make them. They did not intend it -for that purpose of course; they simply thought in -old feudal sequences. They hired mercenaries, bullies -provided as “guards” by private detective agencies. -It kept the police pretty busy disarming these -guards, and greatly added to their labors because -the guards were always on the point of hurting some -one.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">LIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>There was one of the employers, indeed, who grew -so alarmed that he came one morning to the office -predicting a riot at his plant, that very afternoon at -five o’clock, when the works were to shut down for -the day. This man was just then operating his -factory with strike breakers and he was concerned -for their safety. Indeed his concern was expressed -in the form of a personal sympathy and love for -them which was far more sentimental than any I -had ever been accused of showing toward workingmen. -He was concerned about their inalienable -right to work, and about their wives and little children, -and about their comfort and peace of mind; -indeed it was such a concern, such a love, that, had -he but shown the moiety of it to his former employees, -they never could have gone out on strike at all.</p> - -<p>At five o’clock that day then, with the Chief of -Police, I visited the plant to observe, and if possible -to prevent the impending riot. The works had -not yet closed for the day, but in the street before -the black and haggard and ugly buildings where -they had toiled, the strikers were gathered, and with -them their wives, with bare and brawny forearms -rolled in their aprons, and their children clinging -timorously about their skirts. It was a gray and -somber afternoon in spring, but there was in the -crowd a kind of nervous excitement that might have -passed for gayety, a mood that strangely travestied -the holiday spirit; perhaps they regarded the strike<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> -as an opportunity for the sensation lacking in their -monotonous lives. There were several hulking fellows -loafing about whom the Chief of Police recognized -as private detectives, and as a first step in -preventing disorder, he ordered these away. Presently -the whistle blew its long, lugubrious blast, -the crowd gathered in closer groups, and a silence -fell. Sitting there with the Chief in his official -buggy, I waited; the great gates of the high -stockade swung slowly open, and then there issued -forth a vehicle, the like of which I had never seen -before, a sort of huge van, made of rough boards, -that might have moved the impedimenta of an embassy. -In the rear there was a door, fastened with -a padlock; the sides were pierced with loop holes, -and on the high seat beside the driver sat an enormous -guard, with a rifle across his knees. This van, -this moving arsenal containing within its mysterious -interior the strike breakers, and I was told other -guards ready to thrust rifles through those loop -holes, moved slowly out of those high gates, lurched -across the gutter into the street, and rumbled away, -and as it went it was followed by a shout of such -ridicule that even the guard on the front seat lost -his menacing gravity and smiled himself, perhaps -with some dawning recognition of the absurdity of -the whole affair.</p> - -<p>There was no riot, though when the employer came -to see me the next day I could assure him of my -surprise that there had been none, since there was -an invitation to disorder almost irresistible in that -solemn and absurd vehicle, with its rifles and loop<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span> -holes and guards and cowering mystery within. And -I could urge upon him too a belated recognition of -the immutable and unwritten law by which such an -invitation to trouble is sure to be accepted. I almost -felt, I told him, like heaving a stone after it -myself to see what would happen. He finally agreed -with me, dismissed his guards, and dismantled his -rolling arsenal, and not long afterward was using -its gear to haul the commodities they were soon -manufacturing in those shops again.</p> - -<p>And the strikes in the other plants were settled -or compromised, or wore themselves out, or in some -way got themselves ended, though not the largest -and most ominous of them, that in the automobile -works, until my friend Mr. Marshall Sheppey and I -had worked seventy-two hours continuously to get -the leaders of the opposing sides together. It was an -illuminating experience for both of us, and not without -its penalties, since thereafter we were called -upon to arbitrate a dozen other strikes. We found -both sides rather alike in their humanness, and one -as unreasonable as the other, but we found too that -if we could keep them together long enough, their -own reason somehow prevailed and they reached -those fragile compromises which are the most we -may expect in the present status of productive industry -in this world.</p> - -<p>The old shop of Golden Rule Jones had its strike -with the rest of them, and yet a strange and significant -fate befell it. Alone of all the other shops -and factories in the city involved in that strike, -it was not picketed by the strikers, they did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span> -even visit it, so far as I know. There were no guards -and no policemen needed. And when I asked one -of the labor leaders to account for this strange -oversight, this surprising lack of solidarity and discipline -in their ranks, he said, as though he must -exculpate himself: “Oh well, you know—Mayor -Jones. We haven’t forgotten him and what he was.”</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LIV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was because of this attitude toward workingmen, -and their cause, that I was accused, now and -then, by those who knew nothing about Socialism, -of being a Socialist; by those who did know about -it I was condemned for not being one. Our movement -indeed had no opponents in the town more bitter -than the Socialists, that is the authentic and -orthodox Socialists of the class-conscious Marxist -order, and they opposed me so insistently that I -might as well have been the capitalist class and had -done with it. I do not intend to confuse myself -with the movement of which I, for a while, was but -the merest and weakest of human instruments; I -speak in that personal sense only because the opposition -was of a personal quality so intense that -it could hardly have been expected of an attitude -that was always insisted upon as so entirely impersonal, -the cold and scientific attitude of minds that -had comprehended the whole of human history, analyzed -the whole amazing complexity of human life, -and reduced its problems to that degree in which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span> -they were all to be solved by a formula so brief that -it could be printed on a visiting card. The complaint -these scientists made of our movement was -that its ameliorations in city life were retarding -that evolution of which they were the inspired custodians -and conservators; some of them spoke of it -as though it were but a darkling part of that vast -conspiracy against mankind in which the capitalists -were so shamelessly engaged. If we had only let -things alone, it was urged, they might grow so desperate -that no one but the Socialists would be capable -of dealing with the appalling situation.</p> - -<p>But this was the attitude only of that coterie -which, unselfishly, no doubt, with the purest of motives, -and only until the industrial democracy could -be organized and rendered sufficiently class-conscious -to take over the work, was directing the destinies of -the Socialist party, very much to the fleshly eye in -the same manner that the Republican machine controlled -that party or the Democratic machine its -party, or, before we were done, certain persons -attempted to control the Independent movement. -So far as I could discern, there was not much -difference in them all; the Socialists seemed to -rely on all the old weapons that had so long been -employed in the world, and so long failed; they -seemed to contemplate nothing more than replacement -of old orthodoxies with new, old tyrannies -with new tyrannies; in a word, to preserve the old -vicious circle in which humanity has been revolving -impotently and stupidly down all the grooves of -time.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>I could not have been a Socialist because life had -somehow taught me that this is a world of relativities, -in which the absolute is the first impossibility. -I could share, of course, their hope, or the hope of -some of them in a well ordered society, though with -many of them the dream seemed to be beautiful -chiefly because they expected to order it themselves; -they who felt themselves so long to have been the -slaves were to become the masters; their hard and too -logical theory of classes circumscribed their vision -so that they could imagine nothing more clearly, -and possibly nothing more delightful than a bouleversement -which would leave them on top.</p> - -<p>I could recognize with them the masters under -whom we all alike were serving in this land, and -respect them as little as we might, or detest them -as we would, they presented whatever advantage -there is in familiarity; if nothing more inviting than -a change in masters were proposed, one would prefer -those one had to others whose habits and whims he -did not know. One could be pretty sure that the -new masters would use the same old whips and -scorpions, or if new ones, with a sting more bitter. -They proposed as much, indeed, in their rigid form -of organization, with a discipline more irksome and -relentless, what with their signing of pledges, and -their visitations and committees of inspection, and -trials for heresy and excommunications. They reminded -me of those prosecutors who could behold -no defect in the penal machinery save that it had -not been sufficiently drastic; they would replace all -old intolerances and ancient tyrannies by others no<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span> -different save that they were employed in the opposing -cause, and were to be even more intolerant -and tyrannical.</p> - -<p>That is, the Socialists provided for everything in -the world except liberty, and to one whose dissolving -illusions had left nothing but the dream of liberty -in a world where liberty was not and probably -never was to be, there was no allure in the proposal -to take away even the dream of liberty.</p> - -<p>None of them of course would be impressed by -these objections—was not the great cure for social -ill written and printed on a card?—nor would -they consider them even until they had been submitted -to the prescribed test of a joint debate, about -the most futile device ever adopted by mankind, and -a nuisance as offensive as any that ever disturbed -society. It was of course the only amusement they -had, as popular as running the gauntlet was with -the Indians, and they liked to torture a capitalist to -make a Socialist holiday. It is of course quite useless -to argue with one who is always right, one whose -utterances have the authority of revealed truth, but -inasmuch as society had not yet been developed to a -point of communal efficiency sufficient to keep the -streets clean, it seemed idle to undertake the communal -control of production and distribution. And -however wrong I may be in every other thing, I am -quite sure that I am right in this, that in their analysis -of society they have failed utterly to take into -account that classic of the ironic spirit, the great -law of the contrariety of things, according to which -the expected never happens, at least in the way it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span> -was expected to happen, and nothing ever turns -out the way it was planned.</p> - -<p>But there is a more fundamental law—that of -the destructive power of force, which always defeats -itself. For their reliance was on force—and how -quietly they, or the most virile of them, entered upon -their last phase in their acceptance of the doctrine -of force as preached now everywhere by the I. W. W. -agitator on the curbstone! Sometimes after all the -law does not take a thousand years to work itself -out.</p> - -<p>It seemed to me that the single-taxers had a -scheme far better than that of the Socialists, since -they suggested a reliance on the democratic, and -not on the authoritarian theory, though in its mysterious -progress, in its constant development of new -functions, democracy may be expected to modify -even that theory. I fear at least that it would not -do away with mosquitoes; possibly not even with reformers.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LV</h2> -</div> - - -<p>But I would not be unfair, and I counted many -friends among the Socialists of my town and time -whose best ideals one could gladly share. They were -immensely intelligent, or immensely informed; they -had made a fairly valid indictment against society -as it is organized, or disorganized. But like Mr. -H. G. Wells, who calls himself a Socialist, these exceptions, -in Mr. Wells’s words, were by no means -fanatical or uncritical adherents. To them as to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span> -him Socialism was a noble, and yet a very human and -fallible system of ideas. To them, as, again to him, -it was an intellectual process, a project for the reshaping -of human society upon new and better lines—the -good will of the race struggling to make -things better. This broad and tolerant view was -the one to which they held, though they seemed too -closely to identify all the good will in the race, operating, -as I believe it to be, in many ways and -through many agencies, as Socialism, and the pontifical -Socialism taught in our town, at least, was so -explicitly a class hatred that most of the time it -was anything in the world rather than good will. -Anyone with a good heart could be a Socialist on -Mr. Wells’s terms, if it were not his inevitable fate -to be assured by the orthodox custodians of the -party faith, the high priests who alone could enter -the holy of holies and bear forth, as occasion required, -the ark of the covenant, that Mr. Wells’s -Socialism is no Socialism at all and that he is no -man to consult or accept.</p> - -<p>My friends among them were like him in the condemnation -they had to hear from the machine, or, -perhaps I should say, the governing or directing -committee—whatever the euphemism that cloaks -the familiar phenomenon with them—they too were -said to be no Socialists at all; they were mere “intellectuals” -or “sentimentalists,” or easily fell into -some other of the categories the Socialists have provided -for every manifestation of life. They have -doubtless rendered society a service by their minute -classification; which seems complete if they would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[317]</span> -only recognize the order of the sectarian mind, and -since the orthodox among them afford so typical an -example, include themselves in it. I am not sure that -it is not quite as distinct a species as the capitalist -class itself, at least it causes as much trouble in -the world as the Socialists say the capitalist class -creates. Socialists, at least of the impossibilist wing, -evangelists, prohibitionists, Puritans, policemen and -most of the rest of the reformers are endowed with -this order of mind. While they all form subdivisions -of a distinct intellectual class of humanity -these are generally the same. That is, they are, all -of them, always under all circumstances, right. All -of these classes, fundamentally, follow the same sequences -of thought. They differ of course in minor -details, but they always meet on that narrow strip -of ground upon which they have erected their inflexible -model for humanity, with just room enough -by its side for the scaffold upon which to hang those -who do not accept it.</p> - -<p>Now, when, by any coincidence, the representatives -of any two of these species meet in the mistaken supposition -that there is any disagreement between -them, there is bound to be trouble of course, and -whenever say a Socialist of the impossibilist wing -of the party, and a policeman—and all good policemen -are impossibilists—meet, we have posited -the old problem in physics of an irresistible body -meeting an impenetrable substance.</p> - -<p>This phenomenon occurred on two or three occasions -when policemen interfered with Socialists -speaking in the streets. I am sure the Socialists in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[318]</span> -question could have regretted the circumstance no -more than I, for if there was one right which I -tried to induce the police to respect, it was the -right of free speech. On the whole they did fairly -well, and at a time when there seemed to be an epidemic -of ferocity among municipal officials in the -land that led them to all sorts of unwarranted interferences -with human and constitutional rights, we -had folk of all sorts preaching their strange doctrines -in our streets—Republicans, Democrats, Socialists, -of their several sorts, I. W. W.’s, evangelists, -anarchists, suffragists, Mormons, Salvationists, -to say nothing of all the religious sects; wisdom was -veritably crying in the streets. Emma Goldman, -during that period of hysteria when the advent of -that little woman in a city precipitated a siege of -fear, delivered her course of lectures in Toledo to -audiences that were very small, since there were no -police to insure the attendance of those who were -interested more in sensations than in her philosophic -discussions of the German drama. And we tried -to respect the rights of all.</p> - -<p>But it is one thing to give orders, and another to -have them implicitly obeyed. Those of the indurated -sectarian mind, who would order all life by mechanism, -are given to saying that if they were in authority -the police would do so and so, and would not do -such and such a thing, that they would have the -police see to this and that, etc., etc., etc. After -they had been in power a while they would grow -humble, if not discouraged, and, like me, be gratified -if they succeeded in accomplishing about one-third<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[319]</span> -of what they had hoped and planned to accomplish. -Thus I, who had tried to give everybody -the right of free speech, was now and then chagrined -to find that someone had been interfered with for -preaching some new heresy.</p> - -<p>The right of free speech cherished by all and exercised -by none, since, owing to a disposition on -the part of humanity to apply the hemlock or the -noose in such cases, few say what they actually -think, is one which certain of the Socialists preferred -to have honored in the breach rather than in -the observance. They would be never so happy, -never so much in their element as when their address -was interrupted; the greater the interference, the -more acute the suffering for the cause, and when a -man begins to feel that there is in him the blood of -the martyrs, which, as he has heard somewhere, is the -seed of the churches, why, of course, he is in such -an exalted state of mind that there is no human way -of dealing with him.</p> - -<p>And then that strange human spark, that mysterious -thing we call personality, is always there—that -element which makes impossible any perfectly -or ideally organized state, social or otherwise. It -is assumed by those of the order of mind under notice -that it is possible so to organize human affairs -that they will work automatically, with the precision -of a machine, that they will work just as they are -intended to work and in no other way, that it is, -indeed, impossible for them to work in any other -way, and that it may be predicted long in advance -exactly how they will work at any given instant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[320]</span> -and under any exigency, or circumstance. This, of -course, is impossible, as everybody knows, except -the impossibilists. That is why they are impossibilists.</p> - -<p>These speakers, however, who would dehumanize -everything yet cannot after all dehumanize themselves, -would frequently court arrest in the belief -that the meed of pseudo-martyrdom thereby made -possible was an ornament to their cause, and they -would often try the patience of officers, who like the -speakers themselves and all of us, are unfortunately, -or perhaps fortunately, only human. Thus a Socialist -speaker standing on his soap box, in the course of -his remarks, indulged in certain reflections on the -police as an institution. His sentiments in that respect -were not perhaps heterodox, from the standpoint -of my own orthodoxy, but we had been trying -to create <i>esprit de corps</i> in the police department, -and the policeman on that beat chancing to -arrive at that inauspicious moment, and viewing life -from an altitude less lofty and impersonal than the -Socialist claimed for his outlook, took the scientific -statements of the Socialist not in the academic sense, -but as a personal reflection upon the body of which -he, it seems, was growing rather proud of being a -member, and at the conclusion of the effort he privately -informed the speaker that if he said anything -more against the Toledo Police Department he would -“knock his block off.” He was reprimanded by his -lieutenant, even after he had explained that he intended -to execute his rude intention in his private -and not in his official capacity.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[321]</span>The incident could be represented by the Socialists -as a veritable reflection of the views of the administration -on the important subject of Socialism, -but they could not derive quite the satisfaction from -it they had in another incident, or accident, which -befell the most prominent and authoritative of their -local leaders. He was speaking one evening in a -crowded street, when he had the good fortune to be -arrested by a captain of police. He made the occasion -the opportunity for an edifying debate, and -lingered as long as the captain would let him; but, -in the end, was led to the police headquarters. This -was the irresistible meeting the impenetrable. While -everybody had a right to speak his mind in the -streets, everybody else, we felt, had an equal right -not to listen, even to free speech, and the police -had orders to keep the streets and sidewalks clear -for traffic. Now this captain was a chap who carried -out orders given to him, and, as he was in -command of the traffic squad, traffic was his specialty. -If streets were to be cleared, then, in his -philosophy, they were to be cleared, and no little -thing like a constitutional inhibition against the -abridgment of human speech would stand in his way. -And then, after all, police are more apt to arrest -people they do not like than those they do, and -no one likes those who disagree with him. But after -the arrest, the offender is turned out without chances -of reparation. In this instance, feeling that the Socialist -had had an indignity put upon him by his -arrest, while I could not undo what had been done, -I could order his release and tender him an official<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[322]</span> -apology in writing, which was accepted, though not -acknowledged. And an order was issued that a -policemen who thereafter interfered with any voice -crying in the wilderness should be dismissed from -the department.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LVI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>As a boy, thirty years ago, I used to observe, -with a boy’s interest, the little bob-tailed street cars -that went teetering and tinkling, at intervals of -half an hour, out a long street that ran within a -block of my home. I watched the cars intently, and -so intently that the impressions of their various -colors, sounds and smells have remained with me -to this day, speaking, in a way, of the conditions -of a small American city of that time, and affording -a means by which to measure that progress in material -efficiency which is so often mistaken for progress -in speculative thought.</p> - -<p>It may have been that my interest was intensified -by the fact that down in Urbana Street cars -were unknown, though they were not unimagined, -since we used to see them when we went to Cincinnati, -and I could then, and I can still, recall, though -time has softened the poignancy of that hour, the -pain of parting with a certain noble horse which -my father sold to a man of dark and hateful aspect, -and of the morsel of comfort I derived from the -stipulation, invalid enough to be sure, my father -made with the dealer, that the horse was not to be -put to street-car service. That, by my father, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[323]</span> -so by me myself, was held to be the most cruel, degrading -and ignoble fate that could befall a horse. -But another reason for my interest was the possession -of a curiosity to which the passing show has -always been novel, generally amusing, sometimes -pleasing and often saddening, too—a curiosity in -life which I hope will endure fresh and wholesome -until life’s largest curiosity shall be satisfied at the -end of life.</p> - -<p>The progress of the little street car under notice -was leisurely and deliberate, sometimes it would -wait obligingly for a woman, half a block away, who -hurried puffing, and fluttering, and waving, to reach -the street corner, and when she had clambered -aboard, the driver would slowly unwind his brake, -cluck to his horse, the rope traces would strain -and the car would bowl along. Ten blocks away -from the business section, or a few blocks further -on, the little car with its five windows and small -hooded platform would enter upon a bare, though -expectant scene of vacant lots, and about a mile -out, where there was some lonely dwelling staring -blankly and reproachfully as though it had been -misled, and then abandoned, and further on a few -small, expectant cottages, the long, low street-car -barn was reached, the car was driven on to a little -turntable, slowly turned about and started back. -Sometimes, if I was lucky, I had a chance to witness -the change of horses, and to experience a nebulous -pity for the nag that ambled contentedly into the -stable, and did not seem to be very tired after all.</p> - -<p>On Summit Street there were grander cars, each<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[324]</span> -drawn by two horses, and there were other lines in -town, each with its cars painted a distinguishing -color. There was one line that went out Collingwood -Avenue, far to the very country itself; its cars -bowled under noble trees and even past a stately -mansion or two, or what in those days seemed stately -mansions, and it was pleasant, it was even musical, -to hear the tinkle of the bell on the horse’s collar. -Then there was still another line that ran down the -broad Maumee River, almost to Maumee Bay and -the “marsh” where the French <i>habitants</i> lived, and -spoke delightfully like the people in Dr. Drummond’s -poems. On Saturday mornings my father was likely -to send me on an errand to a superannuated clergyman -who lived down there, and this involved a long, -irritating journey. The journey occupied the whole -morning, and spoiled a holiday. And then it was -always cold, for, in the not too clear retrospect, I -seem to have been sent on this particular errand -only in winter, and the car was the coldest place in -the world, especially when it got down where the -winds from the icy lake could strike it. Its floor -was strewn recklessly with yellow straw, in some -ironical pretense of keeping the car warm, and I -would sit there with feet slowly freezing in the -rustling straw, and after I had inspected the -two or three passengers, there was nothing to -do but to read the notice over the fare-box in -the front end of the car, until I had it quite by -heart:</p> - -<p>“The driver will furnish change to the amount of -Two Dollars, returning the full amount, thus enabling<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[325]</span> -the passenger to put the exact fare in the -box.”</p> - -<p>Then I could peer up toward the fare-box and -look at the one nickel stranded half-way down its -zig-zag chute, and look at the driver, standing on -the front platform, slowly rocking from one foot to -the other, bundled up in old overcoats, with his cap -pulled down and his throat and chin muffled in a repulsive -woolen scarf, hoary with the frost of his -breath, and nothing of him visible except the shining -red point of his frosted nose. His hands, one holding -the reins, the other the brake-handle, were lost -in the various strata of mittens that marked epochs -co-extensive with those of the several overcoats. I -had read once in a newspaper of a street-car driver -in Indianapolis who, at the end of his run, never -moved, but kept right on standing there, and when -the barn-boss swore at him, it was found that he -was dead, frozen at his post. And I sometimes wondered, -as I dwelt on that fascinating horror, if it -were possible that sometime, when the car reached -the bay, this driver would not be found frozen. -Sometimes I expected to be found frozen myself, -but nothing exciting ever happened on that journey, -and so, somehow, the trips out other streets and -other avenues in other cars, remain more pleasantly -in the memory, associated with the sunshine and -the leafy arch of green overhead, with something of -the romance and mystery of untraveled roads in the -long vista ahead, while the winter trip down to the -superannuated clergyman’s is cold and bleak and -desolate, perhaps because it had no more interesting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[326]</span> -result than the few minutes I begrudged in that -stiff little “parlor,” where the preacher received me -with the not unkindly regard of eyes that had the -dazed expression of the very old. I can expiate the -perfectly patent and impolite reluctance with which -I visited the aged man, and the thoughtless contempt -youth has for age itself, only by the hope that -those dim eyes have since brightened at the realization -of those glories they had so long foreseen, -which formed perhaps the only consolation of a life -that must have had little to gladden it on that forbidding -spot.</p> - -<p>All these lines, and others like them in the -sprawling young town, belonged each to different -men, and once I happened to hear that the man who -owned the line first mentioned say that every new -family that moved into that thoroughfare or built -a house there, meant $73.00 a year to him. A good -many families moved out into that street, enough -indeed to make a settlement that was a town in itself, -growing and spreading at the end of the line. Gradually -the gaunt vacancies between were built up, -though not, it appears, until the man had grown -discouraged and sold out, and so suffered the universal -fate of the pioneer. One by one the other -lines in town were sold, and finally a day came when -all the lines were owned by a certain few men, who -under our purely individualistic legal system, formed -a company and thus could jointly rejoice in all the -individual rights and privileges of a person, without -any of his embarrassing moral duties and responsibilities.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[327]</span>I ceased to hear of the individual owner any -more; I never saw him in his shirt-sleeves in his little -office at the end of the line counting up the nickels -of those new families which each meant $73.00 per -annum to him, and it must have been about the -same time that I began to hear of the traction company. -There had been probably intervening experiments -with tough mules, whom no one pitied, as -everyone had pitied the horses they replaced, and -there were, in other cities, astounding miracles of -cable cars and elevated railways. And then electricity -came as a motive power, and the streets -were made hideous by the gaunt poles and makeshifts -of wires, and the trolley cars came, and -increased in size and numbers, and families swarmed, -until out on those streets and avenues the great -yellow cars went rushing and clanging by, with multitudes -of people clinging to the straps and, toward -evening, swarming like flies on the broad rear platforms, -and the conductors in their blue uniforms -shouting “Step lively!” with a voice as authoritative -as that which the company spoke in the city -councils. And the families continued to arrive, and -to build houses, and to toil and to contribute each -its $73.00 a year, though they did it with human -reluctance and complaint, and grew dimly conscious -that somewhere in the whole complicated transaction -an injustice lurked. And finally this hidden injustice -became the chief public concern of the people -of the town, and an issue in local politics for more -than a decade.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[328]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">LVII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It had been an issue, as I have more than once -said in Jones’s time and in his campaigns, though -the issues his tremendous personality raised were -so vast and so general and so fundamental that -they included all issues, as Emerson said his reform -included all reforms. It ran like a scarlet thread -through the warp and woof of our communal life; -it was somehow associated with the ambitions of -the meanest politician, it affected the fortunes of -every man in business, and it was the means whereby -the community came to have an ideal. The long -story of it, like the story of the same interest in -any town, would include triumphs and tragedies—and -the way of politics through the town was strewn -with the pitiable wrecks of character and of life -itself that had been ruthlessly sacrificed to the insatiable -greed of privilege. Only the other day one -such wreck, once in a position of honor and trust in -the municipality, was waiting in the outer office; -he wanted half a dollar and a place to sleep. And -another like him, most desperate of all, asked to be -committed to a city hospital or even to the asylum -for the insane; he had no other refuge, and as for -the poorhouse, he said, not yet, not yet! And -these were the sacrifices privilege demanded of its -parasites; though their case morally, at least, could -be no worse than that of privilege’s principal beneficiaries; -not half so bad indeed, since they had lost -the power of appreciation of spiritual values.</p> - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[329]</span>I knew a reporter, an Irish lad, whom one of the -attorneys of privilege sought to “befriend.”</p> - -<p>“You work pretty hard, don’t you?” asked the -attorney.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said the Irish lad.</p> - -<p>“And your salary is small?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And a mortgage on your mother’s home?” The -agents of privilege always know a man’s necessities!</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, now, I can tell you how things can be eased -up a bit for you. For instance——”</p> - -<p>After the proposal had been artfully made, -the Irish lad thought a moment, and then he raised -those blue eyes to the old lawyer.</p> - -<p>“Your wife is prominent socially, isn’t she?”</p> - -<p>“Why, yes.”</p> - -<p>“President of—this and that, eh?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“And your daughters just home from a finishing -school in Europe, aren’t they?”</p> - -<p>“Yes—but what——?”</p> - -<p>“I was wondering,” said the Irish lad, rising, -“how you dared go home at night and look ’em in -the face.”</p> - -<p>Not all men though have the character, the moral -resistance of that Irish lad, and the scores of the -weak and erring ones are the tragic figures in the -long drama of the traction company in the city, -in any city—the drama that cannot be written.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[330]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">LVIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Meanwhile, the education of the general mind -went on, and we were, after all, tending somewhither. -Our experience in the greatest of our tasks demonstrated -that, and in the change that gradually took -place in sentiment concerning the street railway -problem, there was an evidence of the development -of a mass consciousness, a mass will, which some -time in these cities of ours will justify democracy. -It is of course the most difficult process in the world, -for a mass of two hundred thousand people to unite -in the expression of a will concerning a single abstract -proposition. The mass to be sure can now -and then as it were rear its head and blaze forth -wrath and accomplish some instant work of destruction; -even if it be nothing more than the destruction -of an individual reputation. That is why the recall -is so popular and so generously and frequently employed -in those cities that have it. In such elections, -with their personal and human center of interest, the -people all turn out, while in a referendum involving -some abstract principle, the vote cast is always -small. That is why the referendum is so important, -and the recall, relatively, so unimportant; the use -of the first in the long run will afford a fine schooling -for the people.</p> - -<p>The most familiar expression of this rage of -course was the clamor for the indictment and imprisonment -of someone connected in sinister ways -with the company, a demand with which I never had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[331]</span> -the slightest sympathy, to which I could never -yield the slightest acquiescence. What good, though -all the poor and miserable servitors of privilege -were put in prison, while privilege itself remained? -Such clamors have had their results; a few more -broken lives, a little more sorrow and shame in the -world, and the clamor ceases, and things go on the -same as before.</p> - -<p>It is this instability, this variableness, this weariness -of the public mind, on which privilege depends, -with a cynical trust so often justified that it might -breed cynicism in all observant and reflective natures. -The street railway proprietors in Toledo -expected each election to demonstrate this weariness -in the people, and to restore them to, or at least -confirm them in, the privileges they had enjoyed -under the old régime.</p> - -<p>For a people to assume and for a decade consistently -to maintain an attitude toward a public -question therefore was a triumph of the democratic -principle. That is what the people of Cleveland -did; that is what the people of Detroit did; that -is what the people of Toledo did. The successive -stages of this process were most interesting to observe, -the more especially since they caught in the -movement even some of the street railway group -and its political confreres themselves.</p> - -<p>In its origin the public will was destructive no -doubt, that was the inarticulate disgust born of the -long endurance of inadequate service, all the miseries -of that contemptuous exploitation of the -people so familiar in all the cities of America. To<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[332]</span> -this, on the customary revelations of a corrupt domination -of the political machinery of the city by the -street railway company, there was added a moral -rage—the one element needed to provide the spark -for the mine. At first this rage against the company -was such that any action taken by officials was popular -so long as it injured or harassed or was -somehow inimical to the company. And in consequence -there was developed a kind of local jingoism -or chauvinism; whenever popularity slackened or it -was felt necessary to remind the electorate back in -the ward of the sleepless vigilance of their representative -in the council, a councilman had only to introduce -some resolution that would be against the -company’s interest. It was unfortunate, and had its -evil phase, as any suggestion of intellectual dishonesty -must ever have, and it made serious dealing -with the subject extremely difficult and hazardous. -It was difficult to recognize any of the company’s -rights; and it was always at the risk of misunderstanding, -and with the certainty of misrepresentation -that this was done. But of course it was -necessary to do this, in the course of the long and -complicated transaction, that constant and inflexible -opposition of the public with the private interest -which now assumed the aspect of a noisy and -furious war, and now the softer phases of diplomatic -negotiations. Of course there were always those -in town who knew exactly what was to be done; they -could settle the vexatious problem with a facile gesture, -between the whiffs of a cigarette on the back -platform of a street car, or in an after dinner speech<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[333]</span> -between the puffs of a cigar. The one was apt -to advise that the “traction company be brought -to time at once,” the other that an “equitable” settlement -be “arranged” by conservative business -men. Meanwhile the problem obviously consisted -in the necessity of recognizing the private right in -the proprietors and of securing the public right to -the people, and to do this it was necessary to search -out, and isolate, like some malignant organism, the -injustice that somewhere lurked in this complex and -irritating association.</p> - -<p>In my first campaign we proposed to grant no -renewal of franchises at a rate of fare higher than -three cents. Jones had advised it, and I had been -committed to it long before. It was Tom Johnson’s -old slogan, and it was popular. I used to explain to -the crowds my own conviction that the problem -never would be settled until we had municipal ownership, -but there was in Toledo in those days very -little sentiment for municipal ownership, and my -conviction met with no applause, and was received -only with mild toleration. In the second campaign, -there was more indorsement; in the third there was -a certain enthusiasm for the principle, in the fourth -it seemed to be almost unanimous, and now the principle -has become one of the cardinal articles of -faith. I do not wish it to appear that I had converted -all these people to my view; I had not tried -to do that, and doubtless could not have done so -had I tried, but the conviction came by the very -necessities of the situation.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[334]</span> - -<h2 class="nobreak">LIX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Those men who ventured early into the street-car -business were pioneers; they assumed large risks, and -they rendered a public service. They had the courage -to undertake experiments; they had faith that -the town would grow and become in time a city. -And they staked all on the chance. They had little -difficulty, if they had any at all, in securing franchises -from the city to use the streets, for the people -of the city were glad to have the convenience of -transportation. Indeed many of the lines were community -enterprises, organized by the men of a given -neighborhood for the sake of the transportation -merely, and not with any notion of personal profit.</p> - -<p>Franchise ordinances then were loosely drawn; -men had no conception of what changes the future -was to bring about, they lacked the imagination -to prefigure it, the faith to believe it, and so the -street-car promoters who came along a little later -were the heirs of advantages which otherwise they -would not have obtained. Under these advantages, -these privileges, they or their immediate grantees -were enabled to take over for their own use and -profit the enormous social values that were being -created in cities, not by them, but by all those families -who moved in, and toiled, and wrought and -built the modern city.</p> - -<p>This was the first phase of the street-car business, -its experimental stage, commensurate with the -rapid, disordered growth of the city in the middle<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[335]</span> -and western states of America. Few indeed of the -pioneers in the business became wealthy; many no -doubt lost their money, though they tried in vain -to vary or improve their fortunes through the -changes that were rapidly developing the mighty -problem of transporting the crowded populations -of our cities. There were, for instance, the days -when mules were substituted for horses, and sacrificed -rapidly and ruthlessly on the principle that -it was cheaper to replace them than to care for -them, a system about as bad in its consuming cruelty -as that adopted by some factories with reference -to their human employees. Then, in a few of the -larger cities, there were the cable cars, but the -second phase came with the adoption of electricity -as a motive power, and the coincident development, -almost a miracle, of the towns of middle and western -America into real cities.</p> - -<p>With electricity as a motive power, and the consequent -cheapening of operation, the street-car business -entered upon its second phase, and it ushered in -at once the era of speculation in franchises and -social values, watered stocks and bonds. The era -of exploitation came upon us, and out of these privileges, -out of other privileges to conduct other public -utilities, i. e., privileges to absorb social values, -enormous fortunes were made, with all the evils that -come with a vulgar, newly-rich plutocracy. To -keep, and extend, and renew these privileges, they -must have their lawyers, and their newspapers to -mislead and debauch the public mind; they must -go into politics, organize and control the machines<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[336]</span> -of both parties, bribe councilmen and legislators -and jurors, and even have judges on the bench subservient -to their will, so that the laws of the state -and the grants of the municipality might be construed -in their favor. The sordid, tragic tale of -their domination of municipal politics is now universally -known, and in the tale may be read the -causes of most of our municipal misrule. It happened -in Toledo as it happened everywhere, such is -the inexorability of the general law, and the popular -reaction was the same.</p> - -<p>And so we came upon a new, the third stage, -since I have set out to be scientific in analysis of -tractions, and the very name by which these big -enterprises have latterly been called, that is, public -service corporations, suggests the meaning and -indicates the significance of that era. Two facts, -or principles, had become perfectly apparent; first, -that transportation, the primal necessity of a modern -city, is a natural monopoly, and must be -treated as such. Second, that if these public utility -corporations are to continue to hold these monopolies, -they must become public service corporations -indeed, that is, they must serve the public. No more, -then, the old corporation contempt of the people, -at least outwardly expressed, but a softer voice in -addressing them, and a new respect, perhaps grown -sincere. Their old lobbyists disappeared from the -council chamber and the city hall—for eight years -they were not seen there. The companies had been -primarily profit making institutions and only incidentally -for public service, they were operated for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[337]</span> -the private benefit of their owners in contempt of -public right; the service was secondary.</p> - -<p>We may say that this third era is the era of -regulation, or, as it is more apt to be, attempted -regulation, by the city, in which the principle of -the public interest as paramount to the private interest -is to be the basis on which a private company -shall be permitted to operate. This era will endure -long enough to demonstrate itself a failure, the general -mind will continue to learn, to inform itself, -democracy will develop new functions, and we shall -enter on the fourth, and perhaps the final stage, -that of municipal ownership.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LX</h2> -</div> - - -<p>We came upon the scene just when the discussion -was emerging from the second into the third -of those phases into which I have divided the development -of the problem. The franchises granted -almost a generation before were about to expire, -and new arrangements between the city and the -traction company, the Big Con, as the newspaper -argot would have it. Chicago had already, or almost, -gone through her settlement; and though the -settlement was pretty bad, it nevertheless recognized -the principle that the value of a street railway -franchise is a public, social, or communal value, -produced by the community, and therefore belonged -to the community. In Toledo the company had but -about $5,000,000 of actual investment, while it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[338]</span> -had a capitalization in stocks and bonds of nearly -$30,000,000, and the difference of $25,000,000 was -the community value which the magnates had been -exploiting for their own benefit. We simply proposed -that this value should be returned to the -people. We proposed, then, that the rate of fare -to be charged by the company should be large -enough and only large enough to pay a reasonable -return on the actual investment and to provide good -service, a service that was to be dictated, regulated -and controlled by the city. This principle had -been established, or at least admitted in the Chicago -settlement, and the same thing had been done, -though on a sounder and more scientific basis in -Cleveland, where Tom Johnson’s long and gallant -and intelligent contest already in effect had been -won. Over in Detroit the same principles had been -deduced, though the discussion there was so prolonged, -as proved ultimately to be the case in Toledo, -that the people demanded municipal ownership, -without passing through the intervening experimental -stage of regulation and control.</p> - -<p>There is of course nothing sacrosanct in three-cent -fares. The movement of the people, which at -the same time, in the old Russian phrase of -Kropotkin, was a movement toward the people, had -become an agitation for this rate. It had been begun -years before by Mayor Pingree in Detroit, and -was taken up in Cleveland by Tom Johnson, whose -whole career in a romantic manner, at once embodied -and illustrated the history of the street -railway problem in the American city. The adoption<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[339]</span> -of the phrase as a shibboleth or slogan of the -progressive forces was simply and easily explained, -for in the mind of Johnson and in the minds of those -who were like him or were influenced by him, the -difference between the prevailing fare of five cents -and the proposed fare of three cents somehow measured -the franchise value, or that social value which -belonged to the people. Tom Johnson, indeed, used -often to say that he favored a three-cent fare simply -because it was two cents nearer nothing, thereby -revealing a glimpse of his dream of a social order in -which the municipality would provide transportation -just as it provides sidewalks, sewers, bridges, -etc., all of which are paid for at the treasury in -taxes. It was believed and held by all of us, that -this franchise value should be reclaimed or retained -by the people in this direct and simple manner of -lowering the fare.</p> - -<p>There was never any notion, of course, of interfering -in any way with the existing rights of the -company; it was to have all that to which it was -entitled under its old franchises or contracts. But -it was proposed that when we came to draw a new -contract, the political relations of the city and the -company were to be considered as of paramount -importance, using the word “political,” of course in -its old authentic sense, and not as expressing in any -wise the sinister thing it has come to connote in the -popular mind. We were determined to meet not only -the conditions of the present, but to do what our -forerunners in office had never done, that is, to protect -the interests of the people of the future. I suppose<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[340]</span> -this sounds very much like the trite generalities -of the politician, but we sincerely tried to express -the theory with definiteness and particularity. We -sought not only a reduction of the fare and a regulation -of the service in the public interest, but we -wished to provide for that future day when, as a -result of the certain growth of the city, the sure -improvement in transportation facilities, and the inevitable -development of the democratic function, the -municipality is to undertake these enterprises as a -proper public function.</p> - -<p>It was these principles we tried to bear in mind -in those long negotiations which we held all during -the months of one spring and summer over that -big table in the council chamber. We were nervous -when we entered upon this work, nervous as are -those who enter the finals in some tournament of -sport; we did not know much about the subject, -and we were confronted by the street railway magnates -and their clever lawyers. But we could learn -as we went along, and we always had to our assistance -Newton Baker over in Cleveland, and Peter -Witt, and Carl Nau, whom we had employed as the -city’s accountant when the time came at last when -we could examine the company’s books; they had all -gone through the long civil war in Cleveland, as -had Professor Edward W. Bemis, whom we afterwards -engaged in his quality of expert adviser on -valuations.</p> - -<p>Perhaps at first we laid too great stress on three-cent -fares, though I do not know how we could have -done otherwise. Dr. Delos F. Wilcox, who has written<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[341]</span> -an excellent work on the whole subject, had -advised us indeed that a disproportionate amount -of energy and effort had already been expended—not -by us, only, but by all those in other cities who -were in similar struggles—in the direction of low -fares. He pointed out, I remember, that five cents -in that day was worth little more than three cents -or three and a half cents had been a decade before, -according to the scale of prices then current; he -thought that in terms of general prices the public -had already secured three-cent fares without knowing -it. It was a question of some subtlety and some -intricacy, to be left to economists; we could not -feel that our battle had been won so easily, and we -did not undertake to console the people with the -recondite theory. We had before us, in vision, and -sometimes in their corporeal reality, the weary and -exasperated strap-hangers, and the human sardines -on the rear platform with their valid complaints; -they all wanted low fares, good service, and seats. -An old street-car man once said that to provide -seats for everybody is an impossibility, and to -prove this assertion he humorously classified humanity -into three groups: “workers, clerkers and -shirkers.” Each morning, he said, the workers go -down at seven, the clerkers at eight, and the shirkers -at nine, and that therefore it is easy to provide -them all with seats in the morning hours; but -that as all three classes wish to go home at the -same hour in the evening, it is then physically impossible -to provide them all with seats.</p> - -<p>But whether or not too great stress was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[342]</span> -three-cent fares we learned during those months of -wearisome and futile negotiations, that the theory -was not scientific. The people were entitled to -their money’s worth in service, the company to adequate -pay for the service it rendered, and as the -basis of the whole transaction was a public necessity, -the city had the right to control the service, to -dictate what it should be. The old theory was that -the people existed for the street-car company; the -new principle was quite the reverse; the street-car -company was but a temporary instrument of social -service, and the social right was paramount to all -others.</p> - -<p>The company therefore was entitled to a fare -sufficient to enable it to provide the service thus -demanded, and to do this it must charge enough to -pay its operating expenses, taxes, and interest, -enough to meet the cost of improvements and depreciation, -and to pay a reasonable return on its investment. -It was not entitled to any speculative -return. There was no longer on the company’s part -that risk its predecessors in interest, the pioneers or -promoters or whatever they were, had been compelled -to take; its investment was no longer precarious; -nothing, indeed, could be more certain than -the stability of street railway investments. Their -securities, based upon a public necessity, supported -by the diurnal comings and goings of all those thousands -and hundreds of thousands of people, had become -in a certain very real sense, a fixed burden -upon the people of the city, a burden as fixed and -inevitable as taxes. In the hands of private owners<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[343]</span> -such securities, under a franchise ordinance properly -drawn, partake largely of the character of municipal -bonds, which indeed they resemble in fundamentals -and ends. The issue of securities was therefore to -be as jealously guarded as an issue of municipal -bonds, and overcapitalization, the prolific source of -so much evil, was to be prevented. The enterprise -had become as stable as any human institution can -be, and with the limited risk there was to be applied -the familiar principle of limited profit. The principle -was recognized in Cleveland, where the return -fixed as reasonable was 6 per cent., which is but little -more than municipal bonds pay. And when this -principle is established, municipal ownership almost -automatically follows; investors used to large speculative -profits, are ready to sell out to the municipality; -thus, by indirection, democracy comes into -her own.</p> - -<p>It was easy enough to fix most of the elements -of this return; the accountants could do that, in -their intricate discussions of car-miles and curves -and straight lines of depreciation and points of -saturation in traffic, and all that, but the tremendous -difficulty was to determine just what the -investment was and what was a reasonable return -on that investment.</p> - -<p>It is this pass to which all such negotiations, conducted -in sincerity, come at last; it is this on which -the whole question hinges, it is this that might as -well be done first as last, namely, to evaluate the -property of the company. It is necessary not only -to get at the investment and the return thereon, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[344]</span> -to ascertain what the city must pay when it comes -to take over the street railway system.</p> - -<p>But we did not do it at first, and we did not do -it at last. At first it was impossible to get it into -the councilmanic head that it was at all necessary, -especially since it cost money to retain the “experts,” -as they are called, to do the work. They -were prone to that old vice of the human mind which -leads it to imagine that when it has stated the end -to be achieved it has at the same time stated the -means of achieving it,—like the advice to the bashful -man “to assume an easy and graceful attitude, -especially in the presence of ladies”—and when -council was finally convinced and had provided the -funds for the experts, we could not agree as to who -should be employed. That is, the human equation -was apparent. There was unhappily nobody but -men to make evaluations, and all the engineers who -were competent were employed by street railway -companies, and expected or hoped to continue to be -employed by street railway companies, and they had -evolved so many fantastic notions of “intangible” -value that they could account for almost any excess -in artificial capitalization, and make the -grossest exhibition of corporate greed in watering -stocks appear like veritable self denial in frugality -and economy. We selected Professor Bemis to represent -the city, because he was one of the few of -the “experts” committed to the people’s cause; he -had advised Tom Johnson throughout his long war. -But the company never could be brought to select -anybody, or to agree upon the third arbiter—even<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[345]</span> -to accept the Judge of the United States Circuit -Court when, against the advice of the whole administrative -circle, I proposed him.</p> - -<p>Again and again in our prolonged negotiations -we returned, as in a vicious circle, to this point; -again and again we reached this impasse.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LXI</h2> -</div> - - -<p>Meanwhile, the franchises were expiring, and the -time drew on when the company would have no -rights left in the streets. And here was the opportunity -for the mind that had the power, or the -defect, of isolating propositions, of regarding them -as absolute, of ignoring the intricate relativity of -life. “Put the company off the streets,” was the -cry; “make it stop running its cars; bring it to its -knees.” However, we could not bring the company -to its knees without bringing the riders to their -feet; we could not put the company off the streets, -without at the same time and by the same process, -putting the people on the streets; when the cars -stopped running the people began walking. The -public convenience was paramount.</p> - -<p>Then Mr. Cornell Schreiber, the City Solicitor, -hit upon a plan. He drew an ordinance providing -that the company could use the streets wherein its -rights had expired, only on the condition that it -carry passengers at a three-cent fare, and the ordinance -was at once passed by the council. It was -of doubtful legality, but it had its effect in a world<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[346]</span> -of human beings. Before it was effective even, people -were tendering three cents as fare; and in the face -of the difficulty of dealing with a whole populace in -this mood, the company agreed to put in force a -temporary rate of three cents during the rush hours -of the morning and evening, and it lowered fares in -the other hours and made further concessions. And -there we let the matter rest.</p> - -<p>And, since the education of the general mind -never stops, the people were learning. Their -patience was time and again exhausted by the unavoidable -length of the franchise dispute, for the -problem was to them, as to most Americans, new, the -legal questions in which the whole subject was -prolific had not been settled, there was the interruption -of business and convenience and pleasure -attending long continued negotiations, and perhaps -more than all that irritation of the public temper -which proceeds from all communal disputes. The -company’s representatives counted on all this to tire -the people out; and since the controversy assumed a -political complexion, and there was as always the -difficulty of sustaining the mass will, they had hopes -that by delay the people in weariness would surrender. -The time came when the sentiment in favor -of municipal ownership was so strong that the Independents -adopted the view I had expressed and -declared it to be their purpose to grant no renewals -of franchises at all, but to let the company -operate on sufferance until the city itself could take -over the lines.</p> - -<p>During the course of the long struggle a change<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[347]</span> -had come over the spirit of the people, and this -change had been reflected in the laws. The greatest -difficulty had been found in the city’s want -of autonomy; the cities of Ohio not only lacked the -power to own and operate public utilities, but they -even had few rights in contracting with the private -companies. The street-car companies had always -been more ably and assiduously represented in the -state legislature than had the people themselves; -the people had not had the strength to wrest these -powers from the legislature, and indeed, in their patience -and toryism, they had not made many efforts -to do so. Thus our campaign led us out into the -state, and the end, toward which we had to struggle, -was the free city; the last of our demands was home -rule. In the relations between public utility corporations -and the municipality, our cities were a whole -generation behind the cities of Great Britain, Germany, -France and Belgium. Indeed, in relation to -all social functions we were not much further advanced -than was Rome in the second century.</p> - -<p>As to the medieval cities of Italy, the free cities -of Germany and the cities of Great Britain, struggling -all of them against some overlord, some king, -noble or bishop, so at last there came to our cities a -realization of the vassalage they were under. Their -destinies were in the hands of the country politicians -in the state legislature who had no sympathy with -city problems, because they had no understanding -of them. Oftenest indeed they had a contempt for -them, they all held to the Puritan ideal. But a demand -for freedom went up from Cleveland, from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[348]</span> -Cincinnati, from Columbus, from Toledo. The legislature -began to make its reluctant concessions; it -gave cities, for instance, the right to have street -railway franchises referred to the people for approval -or rejection. And at last in the great awakening, -the state constitution was ultimately amended -and cities were given home rule. It was the irony of -life that Golden Rule Jones and Tom Johnson could -not have lived to see that day!</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LXII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>A few weeks after my election to a fourth term -I wrote out and gave to the reporters a statement -in which I said that I would not be again a -candidate for the office of mayor. I had been thinking -of my old ambition in letters, and of those novels -I had planned to write. Already I had been six -years in office and I had not written a novel in all -that time. And here I was, just entering upon another -term. If ever I were to write those novels -I would better be about it, before I grew too old -and too tired. The politicians, regarding all such -statements as but the professional insincerities of -their trade, could not consider my decision seriously -of course, or credit its intention. They were somewhat -like my friends in the literary world, or like -some of them at least, who were unable to understand -why I should not continue indefinitely to run for -mayor, though the politicians were not so innocent -and credulous, since they did not believe that I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">[349]</span> -could as inevitably continue to be elected. I suppose -it was the life of action that appealed to my -literary friends or to their literary imaginations; -they had the human habit of disparaging their own -calling, and, if they did not hold my performance -in that field as lightly as the politicians held it, they -wondered why I did not prefer politics. The politicians -in their harangues spoke of my writings bitterly, -as though they were a personal affront to -their intelligences, and urged the electorate to rebuke -me for spending my time upon such nonsense. -If I had not known that they had never read my -books, or any books, all this might have been chilling -to the literary aspiration, but I knew them to their -heart’s core, where there was nothing but contempt -for books, and, as I sometimes thought, yielding too -much to cynicism and despair, nothing but contempt -for any sort of beauty or goodly impulse. Of -course, they were not so bad as that; out of politics -they were as good as anyone or as anything; we -instinctively recognize the vitiating quality of the -political atmosphere in our constant use of the -phrase “if it could only be taken out of politics,” -as with the tariff, the currency, municipal government, -etc. But my friends in the political line could -join my friends in the literary line in the surprise -they felt at my decision to retire at the end of that -last term. The politicians did not think I meant -what I said, of course; it is quite impossible for a -politician to imagine a man’s meaning what he says, -since politicians so seldom mean what they say themselves; -they considered it merely as bad politics to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">[350]</span> -have said such a thing at all. “It’ll embarrass you -when you run again,” they would warn me in their -bland <i>naïveté</i>. It did not embarrass me, however, -because I would not and did not run again, though I -had to decline a nomination or two before they were -convinced, but their own lack of faith, those who -were still Independents, at least, proved an ultimate -embarrassment to them, for they neglected to agree -upon a candidate to succeed me, and by the next -election they had grouped themselves in factions, -each with its own candidate. Perhaps this untoward -result came to pass as much because the independent -movement by that time had become the Independent -party, as for any other reason discernible to the -mind of man; at least, it was disparaged by the use -of that term, which implied its own reproach in -Toledo, and its sponsors conducted themselves so -much after the historic precedents of faction in political -parties, by separating into the inevitable right -and left wing, that they managed to get themselves -soundly beaten.</p> - -<p>Eight years is a long time to serve in any office. -My grandfather had given four years to the Civil -War, and I had found the mayor’s office as trying, -as difficult, and as alien as he had found his martial -experience. The truth is, that long before the eight -years were over the irritation of constant, persistent, -nagging criticism had got on my nerves, and, besides -the pain of misunderstanding and misrepresentation, -I grew to have a perfect detestation for those -manipulations which are the technic of politics. -And, then, one cannot be a mayor always,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">[351]</span> -and it were better to retire than to be dismissed.</p> - -<p>“But I thought you didn’t mind criticism?” a -man said to me one day. “I always supposed that -after a while one became callous.”</p> - -<p>My dear friend Bishop Williams of Detroit was -at the table, and I shall ever be grateful to him for -the smile of instant comprehension and sympathy -with which he illuminated the reply he made before -I had time to speak.</p> - -<p>“Yes, callous,” he remarked, “or—raw.”</p> - -<p>It was precisely that. There were those who were -always saying to me: “I know you don’t mind what -they say about you, but I never could stand it; I’m -too sensitive.” It was a daily experience, almost as -difficult to endure as the visits of those who came to -report the latest ill-natured comment; they did it -because they were friends and felt that I should know -it. But Bishop Williams knows life and understands -human nature more completely and more tolerantly -than any clergyman I ever knew.</p> - -<p>And then politics have the dreadful effect of beating -all the freshness out of a man; if they do not -make him timid, they make him hesitant and cautious, -provident of his opinion; he goes about with -his finger on his lips, fearful of utterance, and, when -he does speak, it is in guarded syllables which conceal -his true thought; he cultivates solemnity and -the meretricious art of posing; humor is to be -avoided, since the crowd is perplexed by humor and -so resents it, and will have only the stale rudimentary -wit of those stories which men, straining to be -funny, match at the banquet board. And when he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">[352]</span> -indulges himself in public speech it is to pour forth -a tide of words,</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="indent4">Full of sound and fury,</div> -<div class="verse">Signifying nothing.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>I used to be haunted continually by a horrid fear -that I should lose the possibility of ever winning the -power of utterance, since no such prudence is at all -compatible with the practice of any art. For art -must, first of all, be utter sincerity, the artist’s business -is to think out his thoughts about life to the -very end, and to speak them as plainly as the power -and the ability to speak them have been given to -him; he must not be afraid to offend; indeed, if he -succeed at all, he must certainly offend in the beginning. -I am quite aware that I may seem inconsistent -in this notion, since I have intimated my belief -that Jones was an artist; and so he was, in a -way, and, if I do not fly to the refuge of trite sayings -and allege him as the exception that proves the -rule, I am sure that I may say, and, if I have in the -least been able to convey any distinct conception of -his personality, the reader will agree with me when -I say, that he was <i>sui generis</i>. And besides it was -not as a politician that he won his success. Had he -ventured outside the political jurisdiction of his own -city the politicians instantly would have torn him -asunder because he had not been “regular.” And, -that, I find, when I set it down, is precisely what I -am trying to say about the artist; he must not be -regular. Every great artist in the world has been -irregular, as irregular as Corot, going forth in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">[353]</span> -early morning in search of the elusive and ineffable -light of dawn as it spread over the earth and stole -through the greenwoods at Barbizon, or as Manet, -or Monet, or any other man who never knew appreciation -in his lifetime. And Jones and all like him -are brothers of those incomparable artists; they are -not kin in any way to the world’s politicians.</p> - -<p>And then so many of the old guard were dead. -A strange and tragic fate had pursued us, overtaking, -one after another, our very best—Jones, first -of all, and then Oren Dunham, E. B. Southard, Dad -McCullough, Franklin Macomber, Lyman Wachenheimer, -Dr. Donnelly, William H. Maher. These -brave, true souls were literally burned out in the -fires of that fierce and relentless conflict, and then -there came that soft autumn night when seven of -our young men in a launch were run down by a -freighter on Maumee Bay and drowned, every one -of them.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget Johnson Thurston as he sat -in my office during that last campaign, recalling -these men who had been to him as comrades in arms, -and, what affected him more sorely, the fact that in -our overabundant political success the ideals that -had beckoned them on had become blurred in the -vision of those who came after them. I detected -him in the act of drawing his handkerchief furtively -from his pocket, and hastily pressing it to his eyes, -as he stammered something in apology for his emotion....</p> - -<p>Thus there came the irresistible conviction that -the work of the politician was not for me. There<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">[354]</span> -was other work I wished to do. I doubt whether -the politician’s work is ever permanent, though it -is too much to say that it lacks real value; I have -never been able to think it out. The work of few -men, of course, is permanent, sometimes the work of -the artist least of any. But, however ephemeral, if -the artist’s work is done in sincerity, it is of far -greater worth than the work of the politician, if for -no other reason, than because, to recall again those -words of George Moore which can never lose their -charm or their consolation, the traffic of the politician -is with the affairs of this world, while the artist -is concerned with the dreams, the visions, and the aspirations -of a world that is beyond this. I have -quoted them before in these pages, I know; they cannot -be quoted too often, or too often read by us -Americans, if, by pondering them, we may plumb -their profound depths. For we all read human history -too superficially. Kings and emperors, princes -and dukes, prime ministers and generals may fascinate -the imagination for a while, but if life is ever to -unfold its possibilities to the later consciousness, -these become but the phantoms of vanished realms, -and there emerge more gracious figures, Phidias and -Theocritus; Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio; Raphael, -Leonardo da Vinci, Titian, and Correggio; -Donatello and Michelangelo; Sidney, Spenser, Tyndale, -Shakespeare, and Ben Jonson. These and -the other artists and humanists of their times are -veritable personalities in our world, far more than -Elizabeth, or the dukes of the Medici, or even Pericles. -For from periods such as these their names<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">[355]</span> -made illustrious, from the Revival of Learning, the -Renaissance, the Reformation, man emerged as Man, -clothed with the beauty and power of an emancipated -spirit. In the freedom of the mind, the spontaneous -outburst of ecstasy and delight, the new-born possibility -of loveliness and harmony and joyous existence, -they not only exalted life with art, but gained -the courage to undertake sterner examinations of its -mystery. And this same perennial spirit of humanism -built, not only the proud and voluptuous cities -of Tuscany and Lombardy, but the wealthy free -cities of Flanders and Germany—and it discovered -America, not the America of the senses alone, but -the larger, nobler America of the mind.</p> - -<p>And, surely, this America is not always to bear -the reproach of having no music, and so little painting -and literature of her own. Surely the aspirations -of this new land, with the irresistible impulse -of the democratic spirit and humanistic culture are -to find emotional expression in the terms and forms -of enduring beauty. It was this sublime adventure -that interested me far more than the trivial and -repulsive wrangles of the politicians....</p> - -<p>Our opponents had never known how wholly right -they were in their reiterated charge that I was but -a dreamer; incorrigible dreamer indeed, and nothing -more!</p> - -<p>But in these years I had given my city the best -there was in me, little as that was, and when the -legislature made provision for the constitutional convention, -which met at Columbus, and, after months -of deliberation, submitted a long list of amendments<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">[356]</span> -to the fundamental law of the state, among them -that one which granted home rule to cities, I felt, -for it was an emotion deeper than thought, that if -the people could only be induced to approve that -amendment the long anticipated and happy release -was at hand. We had been engaged on an impossible -task; we had been trying to regenerate the city by -means of electing to office persons who in themselves -would reflect the communal aspiration, but this could -not be continued indefinitely; the cities could achieve -no genuine reform until they were autonomous. -With home rule democracy would have the means of -development, and the people the opportunity of self-expression; -they would have to depend on themselves; -they could no longer, with an Oriental fatalism, -neglect their own destiny and then lay the blame -for the inevitable catastrophe on the mayor, or the -political boss, or the country members of the legislature.</p> - -<p>There were, if I remember well, about fifty of -these amendments, among them provisions for the -initiative and referendum, woman suffrage, and -many other progressive and radical doctrines, in -addition to our beloved home rule for cities, and, -when the campaign opened in behalf of their adoption, -Newton Baker, who a year before had been -elected mayor of Cleveland, proposed that he and -I make a tour of the state in a motor car and speak -for the home rule amendment, since all the others -had their devoted proponents.</p> - -<p>Nothing more delightful than a campaign tour in -company with Newton Baker could be imagined, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">[357]</span> -I had visions of our little caravan, out on the country -roads of Ohio, going from town to town, and of -our standing up in the car and speaking to the crowds -of farmers who had come into the town to hear -us, or having come for their Saturday marketing, -would pause while we told them of the needs of cities. -I had always believed that if the farmers could only -be brought to understand the cities they would not -be so obdurate with us, but would enlarge our opportunities -of self-expression and self-government. I -could fancy myself standing up and leaning over -the side of the car and talking to them, while they -stood there in their drab garments, their faces drawn -in mental concentration, looking at us out of eyes -around which were little wrinkles of suspicion, -wondering what designs we had upon them; at -first they would stand afar off, perhaps on the -other side of the street, as they used to do when -we went out to speak to them in the judicial -campaigns; but then presently they would draw -a little closer, until at last they crowded about -the car, staying on to the end, and then perhaps -even vouchsafing us the conservative approval of -scattered applause. Or I would dramatize Baker as -speaking, while I sat there utterly charmed with his -manner, his clear and polished expression, and envied -him his ability to speak with such surprising -fluency, such ease and grace, as if the fact of putting -words together so that they would form clear, logical -and related sentences were nothing at all, and -wondering why it was that everyone that heard was -not instantly converted to his plan, whatever it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">[358]</span> -was.... And then, between times, Baker -would not be talking politics at all; he would not be -indulging in politician’s low gossip, slandering every -one he knew—the ineradicable and, I suppose, inevitable -habit of politicians, because in public they -are obliged to be so suave in utterance and so smiling -and ingratiating in manner. Baker was not like -them at all; he knew a vast deal of literature and -could talk about books with comprehension; if you -mentioned a passage from John Eglinton, or a scene -from Tourgenieff, or a poem of Yeats or Masefield, -he would know what you were talking about; he is not -one of those who, by the little deceit of a thin, factitious -smile of appreciation, pretend an acquaintance -they have never enjoyed. Baker has been able to -keep the habit of reading, even in politics, a singular -achievement. Only he would not read novels that -were in the somber or tragic manner; I used to tell -him that this was a sign he was growing old, since -only the buoyancy of youth can risk its spirit in such -darkened paths. For instance, he would never read -my novel about prisons, “The Turn of the Balance”; -he said he knew it was too terrible. But I did not -reproach or blame him. I no longer like to read -terrible books myself, since life is....</p> - -<p>But that pretty scheme fell through, our tour -was abandoned, and we went separate ways, though -we did have the joy of speaking together on several -occasions, once here in Toledo, where we opened the -campaign in old Memorial Hall, and again in a town -down the state, and at last in two great meetings in -Cleveland, where they got out the old tent Johnson<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">[359]</span> -had used in his campaigns, and the audiences its -canvas walls sheltered, there under the flaring -torches, were inspired by his spirit as once they -had been by his presence, and with the enthusiasm -of them fresh in my heart I set out from -Cleveland that last week of the campaign for the -long drive to Columbus, where the campaign was to -close.</p> - -<p>It was a hot day in early September; the clouds -were piled high in the west as we started, and the -air was suffocating in its dense humidity; plainly it -was to be a day of thunder and lightning and tropical -showers. My friend, Henry W. Ashley, who -understands democracy to the fundamentals (his -father was the friend of Lincoln and wrote the -Fifteenth Amendment), was with us, for he was ever -an interested spectator of our politics. We went -by the way of Oberlin because Ashley wished to see -the college campus and indulge some sentimental reflections -in a scene that had been so vitally associated -with the old struggle of the abolitionists. The -storm which had been so ominously threatening all -the morning broke upon us as we slowly made our -way through the country south of Oberlin, as desolate -a tract as one could find, and we were charged -as heavily with depression as were the clouds with -rain as we thought of the futility of attempting to -convince the inhabitants of such a land that they -had any responsibility for the problems that were -vexing the people in the cities of the state. I remember -a village through which we passed; it was about -noon, according to our watches, though, since in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">[360]</span> -country the people reject Standard time and regulate -their leisurely affairs by “God’s time,” noon -was half an hour gone, and, after their dinners, they -were seeking the relaxation they did not seem to need. -The rain had ceased, and on the village green under -the clearing sky the old men had come out to pitch -horseshoes. Among them was a patriarch whose -long white beard, stained with the juice of the tobacco -he resolutely chewed, swept the belt of his -slack trousers; he was in bare feet. The human -foot after it has trod this earth for three score years -and ten is not a thing of beauty, and Ashley joked -me, as we labored in the mud of those deplorable -roads, for my temerity in hoping that we could convert -that antediluvian to our way of thinking.</p> - -<p>Had the task been wholly mine I should not have -undertaken it, and, of course, in that instance I did -not attempt it; the old barefoot quoit player stood -to us a symbol of the implicit and stubborn conservatism -of the rural districts. But there were -others in the field, an army of them, indeed; Herbert -Bigelow, the radical preacher of Cincinnati, who had -been president of the constitutional convention; -Henry T. Hunt, Cincinnati’s young mayor; and, -most influential of all of them perhaps, James M. -Cox, destined that autumn to be elected governor of -Ohio. And, besides all these, there was the spirit -of the times, penetrating at last with its inspiring -ideas even the conservatism of the country people. I -was confident that the old man could be counted -upon to vote for the initiative and referendum at -any rate, since one so free and democratic in cos<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">[361]</span>tume -and manner must be of the democratic spirit -as well, though I had my doubts of him in that moment -when he should put on his spectacles and examine -the amendments abolishing capital punishment, -and granting home rule to cities.</p> - -<p>But the sun came out again as we climbed the hills -that overlook Mansfield, to command a lovely scene, -broad fertile valleys all renewed by the rain and -flooded with sunshine, and I remembered that Altgeld -had once lived there, and beheld this same landscape, -that he had taught school in that town and -from there had gone away with a regiment to fight -in the Civil War. The chauffeur got out and took -the chains off the tires, while we sat silent under the -influences of the beauty of those little Ohio hills. -And then, as we started on, the clouds returned, the -scene darkened, and it began to rain again, and, before -we knew, the car skidded and we were in the -ditch. The wife of the farmer whose garden fence -we had broken in our accident revealed all the old -rural dislike of the urbanite; she said she was glad -of our fate, since motorists were forever racing by -and killing her chickens, and with this difficulty I left -Ashley to deal, since he had been president of a railroad -and was experienced in adjusting claims, and, -after he had parleyed a while, I saw him take out his -pocketbook, and then the chauffeur got the car out -of the ditch and we were on our way again.</p> - -<p>The scenes and the experiences of that journey -remain with me in a distinctness that is keen in my -senses still; because I suppose I felt that in the race -with time we were then engaged upon, if we were to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">[362]</span> -reach Columbus that evening for the meeting which -was to close the campaign, I was in a symbolic manner -racing with my own fate; that campaign a success -and I should be free. I should have liked to linger -a while in Delaware, where I had spent a portion -of my boyhood when my father was a pastor there, -and where in the University my uncle William F. -Whitlock had been a professor of Latin and literature -for half a century, dean of the faculty, and, for -a while, president. As we passed by the chapel in -the shade of the old elms on the campus I felt that I -could still hear the solemn strains of the noble hymn -they sang at his funeral, the lusty young voices of a -thousand students, united with the quivering trebles -of some old clergymen, in “Faith of Our Fathers, -Living Still.”</p> - -<p>My eyes could pierce the walls of the chapel, -closed and silent that afternoon for the autumn term -had not opened, and I could see myself sitting there -in the pew with our family, and looking at the portrait -in oil of my uncle on the wall, among the portraits -of the other presidents of the University, -faintly adumbrating on his great smoothly shaven -face the smile of quizzical humor which he wears in -my memory. I sat there,</p> - -<p class="center">by these tears a little boy again,</p> - -<p>and thought of those days so long before when at -evening he would come to our house and stand -spreading his hands before the fire for a while; he -generally brought under his arm a book for my -father to read. I remembered that he used to carry<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">[363]</span> -papers in his high hat, and that his coat stood away -from his neck, round which he wore a low standing -collar, with a black cravat. He seemed to carry in -the pocket of his waistcoat an endless succession of -eyeglasses; he would use a pair, take them down -from his high nose, lay them on the table, forget -them, and, when he wished to read again, draw -another pair from his waistcoat pocket. And I -went on thinking of him as he looked over his glasses -on that evening when I had gone late into his study -and found him bent over his desk with the “Satires” -of Juvenal before him, studying his lesson for the -morrow, he said. I thought he knew all the Latin -there was left in this world, but, “Oh, no,” he said, -and added: “If you would sometimes study at this -hour of the night perhaps——” He did not finish his -sentence, since it finished itself.... “I don’t -exactly know how to render that passage, Professor,” -a student, blundering through an unmastered -lesson, said in conciliatory accents one morning. -“Ah, that has been evident for some time,” my uncle -replied.... And now there he lay in his coffin, -on the spot in that dim chapel where he had so often -stood up to address the students; he was gone with -all those others whose portraits hung on the wall, -men who had stood to me in my boyhood as the great -figures of the world. I should see him walking under -those trees no more, his tall form stooped in habitual -meditation.... They were all big, those Whitlock -forbears of mine, six feet tall every one of them, -grim Puritans, I think, when they first came to this -country three centuries ago.... And I had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">[364]</span> -a vision of my uncle as walking that afternoon in -other groves with all these dark ministerial figures -that towered over my boyhood. They were all Puritans, -too, strong and rugged men, inflexible, obdurate, -much enduring, stern pioneers whose like is -known no more. And I, who could join in -the lofty strains of that old hymn, as a memorial -to my uncle, could find unavailing regret -in my reverence.... But all changes, and -it was a time of change, one of those periods -which make up the whelming tragedy of this life. -And, as they had gone, so all the old combinations -had disappeared with them, resolved into the -elements that make up that shadowy vale we call -the past.... But we were driving on, racing -away from that past as fast as we could go, on by -the cemetery where my uncle lies in his grave, on -by the rocky ledges of the Olentangy, the little -stream where we boys used to swim, and, just as -darkness was falling, besmattered with mud, we -drove into Columbus, and along High Street, hideous -in the crazy decorations that were hung out in honor -of the State Fair, and up to the Neil House—and -across the street on the steps of the old state house -four or five thousand people already gathered for -the meeting at which I was to be the only speaker. -A bath and a bite of supper, and then across the -street to the meeting, and I was standing there before -that vast crowd, and over us the shadowy mass -of the old capitol, in which my grandfather had made -the first motion that was ever put in it as a member -of the senate half a century before; he told me that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">[365]</span> -his two sons danced all night at the ball with which -its opening was celebrated....</p> - -<p>And so, on that brilliant Sunday morning in September, -as we entered the motor car in Columbus, -with the impressions of the great meeting of that -Saturday night still fresh and vivid in the mind, I -could settle myself for the long drive back to Toledo -over the white pikes that wound northward between -the fair fields of our beautiful Ohio, and say to myself, -over and over, with the delicious sensations of -a secret, that the relief had almost come at last, and -that now I could do the thing I loved to do—if only -the people would approve the constitutional amendments -at the election on Tuesday. There were the -happiest of auguries in the sky; it was without a -cloud to fleck its blue expanse, and the sun blazed -and its light sparkled in the fresh air, and as we -rode the fields swept by, the pastures still green, the -ripening corn tall in maturity, nodding its heavy -tassels and waving its broad leaves of dark green, -the mown fields yellow with their stubble, and the -wide land, somnolent and heavy with fecundity, already -rich with the gold of autumn.</p> - -<p>And the people did approve, with vast majorities, -and among all the principles of democracy they -wrote in their fundamental law that day was that of -municipal home rule, so that all those cities, undreamed -of when the old constitution had been written, -and all those little towns, silent and sleepy in the -drowse of that Sunday afternoon, might own and -operate their public utilities, might draft their own -charters, have what form of government they<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">[366]</span> -pleased, in short, become free. And so the great -dream of Johnson and of Jones came true at last.</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak">LXIII</h2> -</div> - - -<p>It was of the Free City they had dreamed and -that they had not lived to behold the fulfillment of -their dream was, in its way, the final certification -of the validity of their services as pioneers. It is an -old rule of life, or an old trick of the fates that -seem so casually to govern life, that the dreams of -mortals are seldom destined to come true, though -mortals sometimes thwart the fates by finding their -dreams in themselves sufficient. In this sense Jones -and Johnson had already been rewarded. It had -been a dream of wonder and of beauty, the vision -of a city stately with towers, above which there -hung the glow which poor Jude used to see at evening -when he climbed to the roof of the Brown House -on the ridgeway near Marygreen. It was a city -in which there were the living conceptions of justice, -pity, mercy, consideration, toleration, beauty, art, -all those graces which mankind so long has held -noblest and most dear. It was a city wherein human -life was precious, and therefore gracious, a -city which the citizen loved as a graduate loves his -alma mater, a city with a communal spirit. There -the old ideas of privilege had given way to the -ideals of service, public property was held as sacred -as private property, power was lightly wielded, the -people’s voice was intelligent and omnipotent, for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">[367]</span> -they had learned the wisdom that confuses demagogues, -and amid the interplay of myriad forces, the -democratic spirit was ever at work, performing its -noble functions. You might have said that the -people were inspired, since they united so readily in -great constructive work, reducing to order and scientific -arrangement all the manifold needs and expressions -of the daily life, conquering in the old -struggle against nature, providing against all that -casualty and accident which make life to-day such -a snarl of squalid tragedies and ridiculous comedies -that it well may seem to be ruled by none other than -the most whimsical and spiteful of irresponsible -spirits. It was more than a city indeed, it was a -realm of reason, wherein the people at last in good -will were living a social life. The eternal negative, -the everlasting no, had given way to a new affirmation; -each morning should ordain new emancipations, -and each evening behold new reconciliations -among men. It was a city wherein the people were -achieving more and more of leisure, that life in all -her splendor and her beauty and her glory might not -pass by unhailed, unrecognized even, by so many -toiling thousands. It was the vision of a city set -upon a hill, with happy people singing in the streets.</p> - -<p>These words I know but vaguely express the -vision that had come to those two men with the -unpoetic names of Johnson and Jones. When I -speak of a city where people sing in the streets I -am perfectly well aware of the smile that touches -the lips of sophistication, though the smile would -have been none the less cynical had I mentioned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">[368]</span> -merely a city in which there were happy people at -all. I am perfectly well aware that such a thing -in all literalness is perhaps impossible to the weary, -preoccupied crowds in the streets of any of our -cities; it would be too absurd, too ridiculous, and -probably against the law, if not indeed quite wicked. -In Mr. Housman’s somber lines:</p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">These are not in plight to bear,</div> -<div class="verse">If they would, another’s care.</div> -<div class="verse">They have enough as ’tis: I see</div> -<div class="verse">In many an eye that measures me</div> -<div class="verse">The mortal sickness of a mind</div> -<div class="verse">Too unhappy to be kind.</div> -<div class="verse">Undone with misery, all they can</div> -<div class="verse">Is to hate their fellow man;</div> -<div class="verse">And till they drop they needs must still</div> -<div class="verse">Look at you and wish you ill.</div> -</div></div> - -<p>And yet, it is not wholly impossible after all. -One evening in Brussels, hearing the strains of a -band I looked out of my hotel window, and saw a -throng of youth and maidens dancing in a mist -of rain down an asphalt pavement that glistened -under the electric lights. It was a sight of such -innocence, of such simple joy and gayety as one -could never behold in our cities, and it occasioned -no more remark, was considered no more out of -place or unbecoming than it would be for a man to -sprawl on one of our sidewalks and look for a dime -he had dropped. But I happened to use that phrase -about singing in the streets simply because it was -one Jones used to employ, just as Johnson used<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">[369]</span> -forever to be talking about his city set on a hill. If -Johnson’s phrase was in an old poetic strain Jones -meant literally what he said. He used to talk of -the crowds he had seen along the boulevards of -Paris, and the gayety, impossible to us, in which -they had celebrated the 14th of July, and he talked -of all this to such purpose that Toledo became the -first city in America to have a “sane” Fourth of -July.</p> - -<p>Jones and Johnson, because they had vision, were -thinking in sequences far beyond the material conceptions -of the communities about them, and utterly -impossible to skulking city politicians, with their -miserable little treacheries and contemptible and -selfish ambitions. They were imagining a spirit -which might and perhaps some day will possess a -whole people. And when I intimated the pity it was -that they had not lived to see that silvery September -day when the people of Ohio voted for municipal -autonomy, I did not mean in the least to aver -that their dream had been realized for us, simply -because we had secured an amendment to our fundamental -law. Memoranda to this effect had been -noted on the roll of the constitution, but these after -all were but the cold, formal and unlovely terms that -expressed concepts which had been evolving slowly -in the public consciousness.</p> - -<p>They realized, what all intelligent men must ere -long apprehend, that too great stress has been laid -on mere political activity. We have counted it as -of controlling force in human affairs, the energy behind -human activities, the cause, instead of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">[370]</span> -effect, the motive, instead of a mere expression of -our complex life. They saw more deeply than politics, -they recognized other and mightier influences -at work, affecting the interests and the emotions of -men. They knew that there is after all, an unconscious, -subtle wisdom in the general neglect of -politics by the masses of citizens, who intuitively -know that other things are of more importance. -They were but seeking to clear the way for the -more fundamental expressions of human interest, -human emotions, human fervors, human liberties. -For of course it is not the city that makes the -people free, but the people that make the city free; -and the city cannot be free until the people have -been freed from all their various bondages, free -above all from themselves, from their own ignorances, -littlenesses, superstitions, jealousies, envies, -suspicions and fears. And it is not laws that -can set them free, nor political parties, nor organizations, -nor commissions, nor any sort of legalistic -machinery. They must themselves set themselves -free, and themselves indeed find out the way.</p> - -<p>Nor is that freedom to be defined; its chief value -lies, as does that of any concept of truth, in the fact -that it is largely impressionistic, subject to the -alterations and corrections of that mysterious system -of incessant change which is life itself. The -value and even the permanence of many ideals and -many truths—for truths are not always permanent, -but are subject to the flux of life—lie in the fact -that they are impressionistic. Reduced to formal -lines and hardened into rigid detail they become<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">[371]</span> -something quite otherwise than that which they were -at first or were intended to be.</p> - -<p>No, neither for them, nor for us, had the dream -come true. But it had come nearer. It had become -possible. Many obstacles had been removed; many -purifications had been wrought, many deliverances -achieved. To Cleveland and to Toledo, those two -cities by the lake, the years had brought their -changes. Not objectively, perhaps; outwardly they -were much the same—without form, inharmonious, -ugly, with the awful antitheses of our economic -system, and what is worse, the vast welter of -mediocrity and banality between. But there had -been ameliorations. In each of them there were -plans traced for beautiful civic centers with groups -of buildings and other public amenities, which, when -realized, would render them comparable in that respect -to those old cities of Europe where the benison -of art has descended on the people from the hands -of kings. And these things were coming up out of -the people, despite provincialism and philistinism -and politics; there was a new understanding of sovereignty, -not as a menace descending from above, -but as an aspiration coming up from below. And -this new aspiration in the people, pressing with the -irresistible urge of moral sentiment against old institutions -will renovate the cities and recreate the -lives in them.</p> - -<p>For after all the world grows better. Not as -rapidly as we should like, but yet, in a way, better. -The immense sophistication of the modern mood, to -be sure, is apt to cast contemporary thought in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">[372]</span> -the mould of multifold negation; and sensibilities, -long distressed by the contemplation of life in -aspects it would not wear were this more of a realm -of reason, find their only solace in that pessimism -which makes charming so much of modern poetry. -Doubtless this is the mood most congenial to the -agnosticism of the reflective, contemplative mind -in the present phase of its philosophy. It has its -undoubted fascinations, its uses, and, indeed, its -truth, part reaction though it be from the excessive -strain of contemporary life in cities, and the dull -orthodoxies of the Victorian age. To one, indeed, -who, in eight years’ participation in municipal politics -might in that respect have been compared to -that character in one of Anatole France’s novels -who never opened a door without coming upon some -hitherto unsuspected depth of infamy in mankind, -it was difficult to avoid that strain. And yet, bad -as municipal government has been in this land, it is -everywhere better to-day. The level of moral sentiment, -like the level of intelligence, mounts slowly, -in wide spirals, but it mounts steadily all the time. -In not every city has the advance been so marked, -for not every city has had such personalities as -Johnson and Jones, and without personalities, democracies -seem unable to function. The old corruptions, -once so flagrant, are growing less and less, -and there is left only the residuum of meanness -and pettiness and spite, the crimes that require no -courage and entail no fear of the law, committed by -beings who never could attain the robust stature of -the old and brazen and robust offenders. The strain<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">[373]</span> -is running out, attenuating, and ere long will be -extinct.</p> - -<p>Those gentle pessimists of such congenial culture -may indeed point to other ages that excel -ours, say in speculative thought, and all the five -arts, but I think it is demonstrable that upon the -whole, and employing long epochs for the comparison, -things are growing better. Notwithstanding -all the ignorance and all the woe in the world to-night, -never before has there been such widespread -opportunity for enlightenment, never such widespread -comfort, never so much kindness, so much -pity for animals, for children, and, above all, never -have women been shown such consideration. It needs -no very powerful imagination, peering into the shadowy -background of human history, to appreciate -the tremendous implications of this fact. Indeed the -great feminist movement of our time, a movement -which in the histories of mankind centuries hence -will be given the sectional mark of the beginning -of a new age, is in itself the proof of a great advance, -in which the ballot will be the very least -important of all the liberties to be won.</p> - -<p>With all the complications of this vast and confusing -interplay of the forces of this age, the city -is inextricably bound by its awful responsibility for -so much that is bad, for so much that is good, in -our time. And in the cities, now as always, the -struggle for liberty will go on. The old leaders -will pass, and the new will pass, and pass swiftly, -for they are quickly consumed in the stress and heat -of the passionate and savage struggle. To them<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">[374]</span> -must ever come the fatigue of long drawn opposition, -of the repeated and unavailing assaults on the -cold, solid and impregnable walls of institutions. In -this fatigue they may grow conservative after a -while, and they should pray to be spared the -acquiescence of the middle years, the base capitulation -of age.</p> - -<p>But always the people remain, pressing onward -in a great stream up the slopes, and always somehow -toward the light. For the great dream beckons, -leads them on, the dream of social harmony always -prefigured in human thought as the city. This radiant -vision of the city is the oldest dream in the -world. All literature is saturated with it. It has -been the ideal of human achievement since the day -when the men on the plains of Shinar sought to build -a city whose towers should reach unto heaven. It -was the angelic vision of the mystic on Patmos, the -city descending out of heaven, and lying foursquare, -the city where there was to be no more sorrow nor -crying. It has been the goal of civilization down -to this hour of the night, when, however vaguely and -dimly, the ideal stirs the thousands in this feverish -town going about their strange and various businesses, -pleasures, devotions, sacrifices, sins. It has -been the everlasting dream of humanity. And humanity -will continue to struggle for it, to struggle -toward it. And some day, somewhere, to the sons of -men the dream will come true.</p> - - -<p class="center">THE END</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p class="ph1">FOOTNOTES:</p> - - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[A]</a> These have been collected and published under the title, -“Letters of Labor and Love,” by Samuel M. Jones, The Bobbs-Merrill -Co., Indianapolis.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[B]</a> “On the Enforcement of Law in Cities,” Bobbs-Merrill, -Indianapolis, 1913.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[C]</a> “The Truth About the White Slave Traffic,” by Teressa -Billington-Greig. <i>The English Review</i>, June, 1913.</p> - -</div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<div class="transnote"> -<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - - -<p>Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> - -<p>Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original.</p> -</div></div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FORTY YEARS OF IT ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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