A Study 
 
 in \Vashington Society 
 and Polibics
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 

 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 A STUDY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 SOCIETY AND POLITICS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS 
 
 AND COMPANY 
 
 MCMIII
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903. BY 
 
 McCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. 
 COPYRIGHT, 1903, BY CDRTIS PUBLISHING Co. 
 
 Published, June, 1903, R
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 <*>?<? 7 
 Sid 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. MEN AND WOMEN 3 
 
 II. THE RISE OF A PREMIER AND SOME- 
 THING ABOUT Two HEARTS ... 30 
 
 III. DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS AND THE 
 
 SHOUTING 48 
 
 IV. GOVERNMENT WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF 
 
 THE GOVERNED 73 
 
 ^0 V. A RAPTUROUS HOUR WHICH WAS RUDELY 
 
 INTERRUPTED 91 
 
 VI. DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT FOR THE 
 
 SOULS OF MEN . 112 
 
 VII. How VARIOUS PERSONS SPENT A MAY 
 
 SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON . . . .130 
 
 VIII. A NEW SENATOR A RAILWAY JOUR- 
 NEY THE ROSE OF THE FIELD AND 
 
 THE ROSES OF THE GARDEN . . .148 
 
 IX. CONCERNING THINGS NOT TO BE MEN- 
 TIONED IN THE SOCIETY JOURNALS . 172
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 X. THERE ARE MEN WHO CAN RESIST 
 
 EVERYTHING EXCEPT TEMPTATION . 203 
 
 XI. IN THE SWEET - Do - NOTHING OF THE 
 
 SUMMER-TIME ........ 229 
 
 XII. WHAT is IT TO BE HONEST IN POLITCCS 
 
 AND TRUE IN LOVE? 256 
 
 XIII. WAR AND PEACE . 288 
 
 [vi]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY
 
 Chapter One 
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 Certain aspects of Washington, both outward and 
 inward, are like Paris. Especially is this true of 
 the outward aspect on a wet night, when the circles 
 of yellow-flaring gas lamps are reflected in the shin- 
 ing expanse of asphalt, when the keen-flashing 
 electric lights blaze upon the white facades of 
 great buildings and the numerous groups of stat- 
 uary against a black background of shrubbery, 
 and when some convention or other brings crowds 
 of people to swarm upon the usually dull Washing- 
 ton streets. The Honourable Geoffrey Thorndyke, 
 M.C., spoke of this Parisian resemblance to his 
 colleague, the Honourable Julian Crane, M.C., 
 as they sat together on a warm, rainy April night 
 in the bay-window of Thorndyke's apartment. 
 The rooms were lofty, wide, and dark, according 
 to the style of forty years ago, and overlooked one 
 of those circular parks in Washington which fash- 
 [3]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ion seemed only to have patronised briefly in order 
 to desert permanently. But the rooms and the sit- 
 uation suited Thorndyke perfectly, and he had 
 spent there all of the five terms of Congress which 
 he had served. Thorndyke's remaining in that 
 locality secretly surprised Crane, a man from the 
 Middle West. He himself had an apartment in a 
 modish hotel, which cost him more than he could af- 
 ford and was not half so comfortable as Thorn- 
 dyke's. But then Thorndyke was born to that 
 which Crane was toilsomely achieving for this vig- 
 orous product of the Middle West was sent into the 
 world with enormous ambitions of all sorts, and not 
 the least of these was social ambition. And combined 
 with this social ambition was a primitive enjoy- 
 ment of society such as the Indian gets out of his 
 pow-wows with unlimited tobacco and fire-water. 
 Crane, although bred on the prairie, cared nothing 
 for fields and woods and the skies of night and the 
 skies of morning. Men, women, and their affairs 
 alone interested him. Thorndyke, on the contrary, 
 although town-bred, cared for the God-made 
 things, and at that very moment was studying with 
 interest the great tulip-tree, dark and dank before 
 [4]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 his window. When he made the remark about Wash- 
 ington having sometimes a look of Paris, he added : 
 
 "And I expected to be in Paris at this very mo- 
 ment but for this" here he interjected an impolite 
 adjective "extra session. However," he contin- 
 ued, good-humouredly, "I hardly expect you to 
 agree with me, considering your late streak of luck 
 or, rather, your well-deserved promotion, as I 
 shall call it on the floor of the House." 
 
 Crane acknowledged this with a smile and a re- 
 quest for another cigar, if possible, not so bad as 
 the last. He was tall and well made, and had a 
 head and face like the bust of the young Augustus . 
 in the Vatican gallery. He was elaborately 
 groomed, manicured and all, judging that time 
 spent on beauty like his was not thrown away. In 
 contrast to this classic beauty was Thorndyke 
 below, rather than above, the middle height, with 
 scanty hair and light blue eyes, and who could not 
 be called handsome by the mother that bore him. 
 But when women were about, Geoffrey Thorndyke 
 could always put the handsomest man in the room 
 behind the door. 
 
 And he had a peculiarly soft and musical voice 
 [5]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 which made everything he said sound pleasant, 
 even when he proceeded to make uncomfortable re- 
 marks about the late turn in national affairs which 
 had sent Crane's political fortunes upward with a 
 bound. 
 
 "For my part," he said, knocking the ash off his 
 cigar, "I have lived long enough and read enough 
 to know that such a stupendous opportunity as 
 your party has now is generally fatal to that party 
 before the next Presidential election. See in the 
 middle of a Presidential term, you carry the Con- 
 gressional elections by a close shave. The new Con- 
 gress is not expected to meet for thirteen months 
 afterward. The Brazilian matter reaches an acute 
 stage, and the President is forced to call an extra 
 session in April instead of the regular meeting in 
 December. Of course, the Brazilian matter will 
 come out all right. Any party, at any time, in any 
 civilised country, is capable of managing a foreign 
 affair in which all the people think the same way. 
 But when it comes to domestic affairs my dear 
 fellow, when the President saw how things were go- 
 ing and that he really could invite you to make 
 fools of yourselves for the next fourteen months 
 [6]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 before the Presidential convention, it was beer and 
 skittles to him." 
 
 Crane turned in his chair and sighed. The in- 
 tricacies of national politics, the wheels within 
 wheels, the way of putting out a pawn to be taken, 
 puzzled and confused him. It had seemed to him the 
 most unmixed political good to him when his party 
 had secured control of the House at an internation- 
 al crisis. It could vote supplies with splendid pro- 
 fusion, it could shout for the flag, it could claim 
 the credit for everything done, while the Senate 
 and the Administration being in opposition, very 
 little real responsibility attached to anything the 
 House might leave undone. And when the man 
 who was certain to be the caucus nominee for 
 Speaker had sent for Crane at one o'clock in the 
 morning and had offered him the chairmanship of 
 the Committee on Foreign Affairs to succeed Thorn- 
 dyke, Crane had felt his cup of joy to be overflow- 
 ing. Everything was in his favour. Without the 
 least doubt about his powers, which were considera- 
 ble, he had some diffidence on the score of expe- 
 rience; but Thorndyke, who would be the ranking 
 member of the minority on the committee, would 
 [7]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 help him out, quietly and generously. In the midst 
 of his elation Crane remembered that Thorndyke 
 had not been wholly satisfied with the chairmanship 
 of that great committee and Thorndyke had been 
 suffered to exercise a degree of power far greater 
 than Crane felt would be permitted him for some 
 time to come. On most Congressional committees 
 there are two or three men who have come into the 
 world booted and spurred, while the remainder were 
 born saddled and bridled. Thorndyke was one of 
 those who got into the saddle early, and yet, the 
 saddle or the steed had not seemed to suit his taste 
 exactly. Crane spoke of this, and bluntly asked 
 the reason. 
 
 "Because," replied Thorndyke, coolly, "there 
 was no more promotion for me and I was made 
 to accept it, whether I wanted it or not. You see, 
 although the Constitution guarantees every State 
 a republican form of government, all the States 
 don't have it. Mine hasn't, nor has yours. My 
 boss, however, is a good deal more astute than your 
 boss. Mine never lets any man have what he wants. 
 Unluckily, when I was a Congressional tenderfoot 
 I wanted the earth and the fulness thereof, and I 
 [8]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 worked for it as well as I knew how. When the next 
 nominating convention was held I was left out in 
 the cold world. I waited two years. Then, being 
 still green, with all the courage of inexperience, I 
 went to my boss. I said to him that I wished to get 
 back in public life, and to stay there and he 
 said " 
 
 Thorndyke paused and blushed a little. 
 
 "Out with it," said Crane, encouragingly. 
 
 "My boss has some extraordinary virtues all 
 real bosses have among them a very engaging 
 frankness. He said, without beating about the 
 bush a moment, that it wasn't his policy to promote 
 men who might who might one day get a little 
 too big for him. That was about what he said. 
 He told me if I would be satisfied with a seat 
 in Congress and the chairmanship of a good com- 
 mittee, I could have it as long as I kept out of State 
 politics, and didn't make myself offensively promi- 
 nent at national conventions. Then he proceeded 
 to advise me as Cardinal Wolsey advised Thomas 
 Cromwell. He charged me to fling away ambition, 
 and reminded me that by that sin the angels fell, 
 and likewise a number of very imprudent young pol- 
 [9]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 iticians I don't use the word statesman any more 
 all over the State. I squirmed, and the old fellow 
 grinned and told me if at any time I hankered 
 after a foreign mission I could get it. I thanked 
 him and told him I had no fancy to be buried until 
 I was dead, and at last we compromised on his first 
 proposition. I like the life God knows why. The 
 salary is enough for me to live on and support an 
 invalid sister all I have in the world. I have sense 
 enough to see that I am better off than if I gave a 
 loose rein to my ambition and was forever chasing 
 rainbows. A man without fortune, who lives upon 
 the hopes of an office which will beggar him if he 
 gets it " 
 
 "That's it !" cried Crane, suddenly interrupting, 
 his eyes lighting up with anxiety. "That's it, 
 Thorndyke. I know all about it. I'll tell you the 
 whole story the story I never even told my 
 wife " 
 
 There is something touching and appealing 
 when a man lays bare his wounds and bruises. 
 Thorndyke, without saying a word, gave a look, a 
 slight movement of the head that brought out 
 Crane's story. He told it readily enough he had 
 [10]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 the mobile mouth and quick imagination of the or- 
 ator, and he was always eloquent when he was talk- 
 ing about himself. 
 
 "You see, when I got the nomination to Congress 
 it was that or bankruptcy. For two months before 
 the convention was held I'd walk the floor half the 
 night, and the other half I'd pretend to be asleep, 
 to keep my wife from breaking her heart with anx- 
 iety. Annette is a good woman too good for me. 
 I had neglected my law practice for politics until I 
 had no practice left, and then I was transported to 
 Congress and Heaven and five thousand dollars a 
 year. I determined to do two things cut a wide 
 swath in Washington and save one-third of my sal- 
 ary." 
 
 "Great fool you," murmured Thorndyke, sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "But I didn't know what a wide swath was. I 
 didn't know anything about it. I came to Wash- 
 ington and brought my wife and three children. 
 We went to a boarding-house on Eleventh Street 
 you called to see us there." 
 
 "Yes. I remember thinking Mrs. Crane the pret- 
 tiest, sweetest woman I had seen that season." 
 [11]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 This was true, for Annette Crane had the beauty 
 of form, of colour, of sweetness and gentleness to 
 an extraordinary degree. She was no Perdita no 
 one would have taken her for a princess stolen in 
 infancy. But not Ruth in the harvest-field was 
 more natural, more sweetly graceful than this lady 
 from Circleville, somewhere in the Middle West. 
 
 "Annette admired you tremendously," contin- 
 ued Crane, in the easy tone of a man who knows his 
 wife is desperately in love with him, and thinks her 
 fully justified. "She said it was kind of you to 
 call. Like me, she thought we were going to do 
 wonderful things I believe she used to pray that 
 our hearts might not be hardened by our social tri- 
 umphs. Well, you know all about it. We were 
 asked to the President's receptions, and my wife 
 called on the Cabinet officers' families, and at the 
 houses of the Senators and the Representatives from 
 our own State. We were asked to dinner at our 
 junior Senator's house. I thought it would be 
 grand. It was, in a way the old man is pretty 
 well heeled but it was exactly like one of those 
 banquets a Chamber of Commerce gives to a distin- 
 guished citizen. Annette was the prettiest woman 
 [12]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 there, but she didn't wear a low-necked gown like 
 the other women, and that embarrassed her. In the 
 end she found out more things than I did. She said 
 to me before the season was over : 
 
 " 'Julian, it's not being rich that makes people 
 in Washington. If it were, we shouldn't mind not 
 being in it. But there are plenty of people, like the 
 Senator, who have the money and the wish to make 
 a stir socially but they can't, while a plenty of 
 poor ones do. Look at Mr. Thorndyke' she hit 
 upon you the first man 'he's asked everywhere, 
 and he says he is as poor as a church-mouse. No, 
 Julian, to be as you would wish to be here, needs 
 not only the money we haven't got, but something 
 else we haven't got and can't acquire, so let's give 
 it up. Another winter I'll stay in Circleville it 
 will be better for the children, better for me, better 
 for you' for I own up to having been deuced surly 
 all that winter. So we adopted that plan, and An- 
 nette has never been to Washington since. But 
 I'll confess this, too I had from the beginning a 
 fancy to see the inside of those houses where the 
 people live who make up this world of Washing- 
 ton. It wasn't merely idle curiosity. I was con- 
 [13]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 vinced, and I am so still, that the number and 
 variety of people in Washington must make these 
 Washington parlours drawing-rooms, you call 
 them the most interesting of their kind in the 
 world. Well I've got into some of them. It's a 
 good deal easier for a man without his wife than a 
 man with her ; and Thorndyke, I own up, I am be- 
 witched. Oh, it's not so much to you ; you've known 
 it too long, and seen too much of it all over the 
 world to know how it strikes a man born and 
 brought up until he is thirty-five years old in 
 Circleville. I swear when I get a dinner invitation 
 I am like the girls out our way, who will drive twen- 
 ty miles in a sleigh to go to a dance. The mere look 
 of the table the glass, the silver, the flowers 
 goes to my head. The terrapin intoxicates me. 
 Those quick, soft-moving servants fascinate me. 
 And the conversation ! They let me talk all I 
 want." 
 
 "You are a vastly entertaining fellow in your 
 own mental bailiwick," interjected Thorndyke. 
 
 "And the women! So unaffected so uncon- 
 scious of their clothes ! And such listeners ! I have 
 never been to a stupid dinner in Washington. And 
 [14]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 the club I never knew a man of leisure in my life 
 until I came to Washington. I daresay you think 
 me a fool." Crane paused, with a feeling rare to 
 him that he could not express half what was in him, 
 but Thorndyke's knowledge supplied the rest. 
 
 "No, I don't. It is quite as you say, but you 
 are taking it all too seriously." 
 
 "Circleville," murmured Crane. 
 
 "Well, three-fourths of these people you so ad- 
 mire came from Circlevilles. Forty years ago, how 
 many of them, do you think, had a servant to an- 
 swer the door-bell? Just consider, my dear young 
 friend, that, except at the South, servants were un- 
 known to a large proportion of the American peo- 
 ple until a short time ago. The parents of these 
 people you see here, with eighteen-horse-power au- 
 tomobiles, and with crests upon their writing-paper, 
 their carriages, their footmen's buttons, thought 
 themselves in clover when they could afford a maid- 
 of -all-work. So far, they are merely at the imita- 
 tive stage. Their grandparents were pioneers and 
 lived mostly in log cabins, and although the three 
 generations are divided by only fifty years, it is as 
 if aeons of time existed between them ! By Jove ! It 
 [15]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 is one of the most astounding things in American 
 life !" 
 
 "That's so," replied Crane. "It is said that one- 
 half the world doesn't know how the other half 
 lives, but in these United States about nine-tenths 
 of the society people have no more notion how their 
 grandparents lived than they have of life on Mars 
 or Saturn. I went to a wedding the other day. It 
 was magnificent beyond words. The two young 
 people had been brought up in " 
 
 "Barbaric luxury," Thorndyke interrupted. 
 "It's barbarous to bring children up as those two 
 were I know whom you mean. The girl had her 
 own suite of rooms almost from her birth, her own 
 maid, her own trap. Even when there was an affec- 
 tation of simplicity it cost enough to have swamped 
 her grandfather's general store at Meekins's Cross 
 Roads, where he laid the foundation of his fortune. 
 When she came out in society it simply meant more 
 of everything. No daughter of the Csesars was 
 ever more conscious of the gulf between her and the 
 common people I say common people with the 
 deepest respect for the term than this girl is con- 
 scious of the gulf between herself and the class to 
 [16]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 which her grandparents belonged. The young 
 man's story was the same da capo, except that he 
 was given a boy's luxuries instead of a girl's. It 
 has been carefully concealed from them by their 
 parents that their grandparents swept, dusted, 
 chopped wood, traded at country stores, and did 
 all those plain but useful and respectable things 
 which made their fortune. To hear them talk about 
 'grandmamma' and 'grandpapa' is the very essence 
 of simplicity." 
 
 "And yet those people constitute the most exclu- 
 sive set in Washington," said Crane, angrily, as if 
 thereby some wrong was inflicted on him. 
 
 "Naturally," replied Thorndyke. "Don't you see 
 that the first result of their prosperity in their own 
 community was to segregate them from their less 
 fortunate friends and neighbours? Don't you see 
 how inevitably it came about that their children 
 were separated from their neighbours' children? 
 And in the end they were drawn from the Circle- 
 vines and the Meekins's Cross Roads by sheer neces- 
 sity? They became fugitives, as it were, from 
 their own class, and how natural it was for them to 
 be afraid of their own and every other class except 
 [17]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 the recognised few, and to build up a wall around 
 themselves and their children." 
 
 "I wonder if you would dare to use that word 
 class on the floor of the House ?" asked Crane. 
 
 "I would dare to but I shouldn't care to," an- 
 swered Thorndyke. "One reason why I have so lit- 
 tle to say on the floor of the House is because it in- 
 volves many explanations to men who know just as 
 well what you mean as you do, and agree with you 
 thoroughly. But there's Buncombe County to be 
 considered." 
 
 "At all events," said Crane, returning to himself 
 as a subject of consideration, "this social side of 
 life appeals to me powerfully too powerfully, I 
 am afraid. I feel an odd sort of kinship with those 
 old ladies of seventy that I see going the rounds in 
 Paris gowns and high-heeled shoes, with their scanty 
 white hair crimped and curled within an inch of 
 their lives. It's serious business with them; and, 
 by George, it's serious with me, too. Of course I 
 am a blamed fool for acknowledging so much." 
 
 "Not in the least. But you must know that it 
 can only be a pastime with you. There is Circle- 
 
 ville, and Annette, and the babies " 
 
 [18]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 Thorndyke saw Crane's face grow a little pale, 
 and he fell silent for a minute or two, and while 
 Thorndyke was watching the current of his 
 thought, as revealed by a singularly expressive and 
 untrained countenance, Crane burst out: 
 
 "The best in the way of women I've seen yet is 
 Constance Maitland I wonder why she never mar- 
 ried. She's nearer forty than thirty ; that she told 
 me herself." 
 
 It was now Thorndyke's turn to grow pale. 
 Constance Maitland was responsible to a great de- 
 gree for most that had happened to him for the last 
 eighteen years, and in all that time he had not seen 
 her once; but the mere mention of her name was 
 enough to agitate him ; and she was in Washington 
 and he had not known it 
 
 It was a minute or two before he recovered him- 
 self and began to pull at the cigar in his mouth. 
 Then he saw by Crane's face that Constance Mait- 
 land was something to him, too. Had the poor devil 
 fallen in love with her as he had with Washington 
 dinners ? Thorndyke was disgusted with his friend, 
 and showed it by saying, coldly : 
 
 "I knew Miss Maitland well some years ago. She 
 [19]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 is very charming. But, Crane, it's bad manners to 
 call ladies by their first names." Thorndyke used 
 the old-fashioned word "ladies" where the moderns 
 say "women." 
 
 Crane coloured furiously. He did not mind in 
 the least being coached in legislative affairs, but he 
 winced at being taught manners. However, he had 
 the highest admiration for Thorndyke's manners, 
 so he replied, carelessly : 
 
 "I accept the amendment. As you say, Con 
 Miss Maitland is very charming, and has been 
 charming men for the past twenty years. Now, in 
 Circleville she would have been called an old maid 
 ten years ago." 
 
 Yes, of course, she had always had a train of men 
 after her, and the fact that she remained unmar- 
 ried showed either that she had no heart or 
 sometimes a wild thought had crossed Thorndyke's 
 mind suppose Constance Maitland still remem- 
 bered him? This thought, coming into his head, 
 set his heart to pounding like a steam-engine while 
 Crane talked on. 
 
 "That woman epitomises the charm of Wash- 
 ington life to me. First, she is unlike any woman I 
 [20]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 ever saw before; that is in itself a charm. Then, 
 she has an environment ; that, too, is new to me. I 
 went to see her four times last winter." Then he 
 mentioned where she lived. "Her parlour I mean 
 drawing-room was nothing compared with the 
 others I'd been in here, but it was distinctive. It 
 wasn't furnished from bric-a-brac shops and art- 
 sale catalogues. All the antiques came from her 
 own family all the miniatures and portraits were 
 her own kinsfolk. And, after having lived in Eu- 
 rope for twenty years, as she told me because she 
 doesn't mind mentioning dates and having seen 
 more of European society than one American wom- 
 an in ten thousand, she loves and admires her own 
 country, and came back here to live the first minute 
 she was free. That struck me all of a heap, be- 
 cause, though you wouldn't judge so from my 
 Fourth of July speeches at Circleville, I should 
 think that Europe would be something between 
 Washington and Paradise." 
 
 "You haven't been there yet," was Thorndyke's 
 response to this. And then Crane proceeded to tell 
 a story which Thorndyke knew by heart. 
 
 "It seems, so I heard from other people, she
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 was brought up by an old crank of an aunt, 
 who had married a Baron Somebody-or-other in 
 Germany. This old feminine party tried to make 
 Constance marry some foreign guy, and when she 
 wouldn't, the old lady, in a rage, made a will, giv- 
 ing all she had to Constance on condition that she 
 did not marry an American. It was thought the 
 old lady wasn't exactly in earnest, but unluckily 
 she died the week after, and so the will stands 
 and that's why Con Miss Maitland never mar- 
 ried, I guess." 
 
 Just then a band came blaring down the street, 
 followed by the usual crowd of negroes, dancing, 
 shouting, and grimacing along the sidewalk, and 
 looking weird in the high lights and black shadows 
 of the night. Crane, to whom the negroes had never 
 ceased to be a raree show, got up and went to 
 the window, whistling the air the band played; 
 meanwhile Thorndyke lay back in his chair trying 
 to get used to the knowledge that Constance Mait- 
 land had been in Washington months and he had 
 not known it. There was a prologue to the story 
 just told by Crane and Crane had no suspicion 
 of this prologue. A young American of good birth
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 but slender fortune himself, in fact was the pri- 
 mary cause of the old Baroness von Hesselt's re- 
 markable will. It was he whom the old lady held 
 responsible for Constance Maitland's flat refusal 
 to marry the son of an imperial privy councillor 
 with seven points to his coronet. Oh, those days at 
 the Villa Flora on Lake Como those days that 
 come only in youth, when the whole world seems 
 young! When, from the terrace, Constance and 
 himself watched the sunset trembling in the blue 
 lake and making another heaven there ! And those 
 starlit nights when Constance and himself were in 
 a boat alone together, and she sang to her guitar 
 for him, and he repeated verses from Childe Harold 
 to her ! They were both young and singularly in- 
 nocent, and were deeply in love of that Thorn- 
 dyke could never doubt; and because they were 
 young and innocent and in love with each other 
 the old Baroness thought them the wickedest and 
 most designing creatures on earth. She had spent 
 all her life in Europe, had frankly married for a 
 title, and wished Constance to do the same. The 
 old Baron, a helpless invalid, was not reckoned 
 in the equation. 
 
 [23]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 The Baroness von Hesselt had acquired what 
 many Americans who live abroad acquire a spite 
 against her own country. This was accentuated 
 by the fact that she was a Southerner of the old 
 regime, who hated liberty, equality, and fraternity 
 from the bottom of her heart, and who instinctively 
 realised her unfitness for America. She had also 
 forgotten a good deal about it, and thought a very 
 effective way to keep Constance from marrying 
 Thorndyke or any other American was to cut her off 
 from a fortune in that event. The will was made, 
 and the old Baroness proclaimed it loudly for a 
 week. At the end of that time the gentleman on the 
 pale horse unexpectedly summoned her. There was 
 but one thing for any man to do in Geoffrey Thorn- 
 dyke's circumstances, and that was, to go far away 
 from Constance Maitland. No definite words or 
 promises had passed between them, but unless eyes 
 and tones of the voice, and all sweet, unutterable 
 things are liars, they were pledged to one another. 
 
 Thorndyke, being in those days a very human 
 
 youngster, hoped that Constance would send him 
 
 a line a word and doubted not for a moment 
 
 that his love would make up to her for a fortune. 
 
 [24]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 But no line or word ever came. As years went on 
 Thorndyke reached the sad knowledge that modern 
 life requires something more than bread and cheese 
 and kisses, and felt a sense of relief that it had not 
 been in his power to take Constance Maitland's fort- 
 une from her with only love to give in return. But 
 this knowledge did not make him content. On the 
 contrary, year by year had her memory become more 
 poignant to him. It was that which had made him 
 throw himself with all his being and equipment into 
 public life. It was that which made him tender 
 to all innocent, sweet women like Annette Crane 
 innocent, sweet women brought back to him some- 
 thing of his lost love. He knew she had never mar- 
 ried, but all else concerning her was a blank to him. 
 He was consumed with a desire to ask Crane some- 
 thing about her all about her but he had noted 
 instantly that in Crane's eye and voice was a man- 
 ner which revealed a dangerous interest in Con- 
 stance Maitland; and Thorndyke was held back 
 and urged forward to speak of her. 
 
 The band passed on, the street once more grew 
 quiet, and Crane returned to his seat. Thorndyke 
 smoked savagely to keep from mentioning Con- 
 [25]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 stance Maitland's name. Crane did likewise with 
 the same motive, but having less self-control than 
 Thorndyke he could not but hark back to the tick- 
 lish subject. 
 
 "So you say you knew Miss Maitland?" 
 
 "Yes. A long time ago." 
 
 "She's very old-fashioned; enough so to stay 
 out of society when she is wearing mourning. She's 
 been in mourning for her uncle by marriage ever 
 since she's been in Washington six months. The 
 exclusives don't stay in mourning more than six 
 months for husbands, wives, or children. Parents 
 and aunts and uncles don't count." 
 
 "The exclusives don't have any aunts and un- 
 cles," Thorndyke put in shortly. "They have 
 nieces and nephews who are presentable after they 
 have been washed and combed but they can't go 
 back as far as uncles and aunts." 
 
 "So they can't. Their uncles and aunts are just 
 like my uncles and aunts. Well, I gather that the 
 old Baron for whom Miss Maitland has worn 
 mourning wasn't a bad old party better, perhaps, 
 than his American wife." 
 
 "He was," said Thorndyke. 
 [26]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 Crane looked at him suspiciously and then kept 
 on. 
 
 "Miss Maitland is going out this spring. She 
 says I'm quite right in thinking there is a delight- 
 ful society attainable here in Washington, but she's 
 so pleased to be back in her own country that she 
 praises everything right and left. She doesn't 
 even mind the Dupont statue, and won't discuss the 
 Pension building. To see her flow of spirits you 
 would think her the happiest woman in the world. 
 Yet she told me once that she wasn't really happy." 
 
 "All women tell you that before you get through 
 with them," growled Thorndyke. 
 
 "Annette never has," said Crane, rising and 
 throwing away his cigar. "Some time, if you wish 
 to call on Miss Maitland, I'll take you round." 
 
 Thorndyke restrained the temptation to brain 
 Crane with the carafe on the table by him, partly 
 out of regard for himself, partly out of regard to 
 Crane, and partly from the fact that Crane was a 
 much bigger man than he was. But his colleague 
 was evidently quite unconscious of Thorndyke's 
 bloody inclinations, and thought himself the best 
 fellow in the world to be willing to give Thorndyke 
 [27]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 a view into the paradise of Constance Maitland's 
 company. 
 
 "And as for my streak of luck, as you call it, I 
 intend to devote all my powers to my work, so that 
 no matter what other committee makes a fool of 
 itself, the Committee on Foreign Affairs won't 
 at least through its chairman," Crane continued. 
 
 "It's easy enough to steer that committee when 
 everything is peaceful," answered Thorndyke, 
 meaning to take the new chairman down a peg. 
 "And it's a great deal easier when we get into a con- 
 tinental mess as we are now. Wait until you get 
 on the Ways and Means, or Committee on Elections, 
 or Banking and Currency, if you want to have a 
 little Gehenna of your own on earth. Good-night." 
 
 Thorndyke sat up smoking until after two 
 o'clock. His thoughts were not concerned with 
 Crane's political future, nor with his own either, 
 nor with the continental mess. He was thinking 
 about that dead-and-gone time, and how far away it 
 was; the moderns did not make love through the 
 medium of sentimental songs to the guitar and to 
 stanzas from Childe Harold. They preferred 
 ragtime on the mandolin and the Rubaiyat of Omar 
 [28]
 
 MEN AND WOMEN 
 
 Khayyam; and they no longer seemed to fall in 
 love in the painful and whole-souled manner which 
 had befallen him; and then he wandered off into 
 thinking how a man's will could go so far and no 
 farther, and how he should feel when he saw Con- 
 stance Maitland, as he must eventually, and how 
 she would look and speak. He concluded, before 
 he went to bed, that he had experienced that un- 
 lucky accident, the breaking of heart, which would 
 not mend, do what he could ; for he was one of those 
 rare and unfortunate men 'who can love but once. 
 
 [29]
 
 Chapter Two 
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER AND SOMETHING ABOUT 
 TWO HEARTS 
 
 On the fifteenth of April Congress met for one of 
 the most exciting sessions in the history of the coun- 
 try. There was excitement both for the members 
 and for the public. Usually, when great economic 
 questions have to be disposed of, which rack the in- 
 telligence of the strongest men in the House and 
 Senate, which make and unmake Presidents and 
 policies, at which men work like slaves toiling at 
 the oar, by night as well as by day, and of which 
 the harvest of death is grimly reckoned beforehand, 
 the people go on quietly, reading with calm indif- 
 ference the proceedings of Congress in the news- 
 papers or skipping them because of their dulness. 
 When questions affecting the honour and prestige 
 of the country arise, the American people, justly 
 described as "strong, resolute, and ofttimes violent," 
 become deeply agitated, are swayed all one way by 
 [30]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 the same mighty impulse, and force Congress to 
 act as the people wish. The Congress at these times 
 is calm. There is nothing to do but comply with 
 the mandates of the people. One party is as will- 
 ing to vote supplies as another. All march togeth- 
 er. The march would become a wild storming 
 party but for a few cool heads and obstructives, 
 who act as a brake, and keep the pace down to some- 
 thing reasonable and the policies in the middle of 
 the road. But the brake is powerless to stop the 
 march onward. 
 
 At this session, though, there were to be things 
 to agitate both the people and the Congress. The 
 question of peace or war had to be decided ; and if 
 it were peace, as the cooler heads foresaw, it would 
 be peace on such stupendous terms of power and 
 prestige to this country that it might be im- 
 possible to deal sanely with the great economic 
 problems which were like the rumblings of an 
 earthquake, and were liable to produce vast con- 
 vulsions. For the present, however, economic ques- 
 tions were in the background, the Committee on 
 Foreign Affairs was the most prominent one in 
 the House. 
 
 [31]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 It almost cured Crane of his infatuation for 
 Washington society to see how little it was im- 
 pressed by the large events waiting to burst from 
 under the great white dome on the hill. Himself, 
 in a fever heat of suppressed excitement, he felt 
 aggrieved that dinners still went on unflaggingly, 
 that the first long season of grand opera Washing- 
 ton had ever known was about to begin, and claimed 
 much attention. None of these smart people seemed 
 to care in the least that he was to present the report 
 of the Committee on Foreign Affairs in an un- 
 precedentedly short time a report which might 
 mean war or peace. He expressed his sense of per- 
 sonal injury to Thorndyke as the two sat hard at 
 work in their committee-room one night a week 
 after the meeting of Congress. 
 
 They were quite alone, and it might be said that 
 the report was theirs alone. There were other 
 strong men on the committee, but they had got 
 used to the autocratic rule of Thorndyke, and 
 rather liked it. He consulted them attentively, but 
 he was always the man who acted. The new chair- 
 man recognised this, and being ambitious to rule 
 as Thorndyke had ruled, he consulted his predeces- 
 [32]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 sor somewhat ostentatiously at which his col- 
 leagues smiled and let him alone. Crane had just 
 experienced an instance of Thorndyke's good will, 
 who was in the act of saving his chairman from 
 making a ridiculous blunder which would have hin- 
 dered his prospects very much as Oliver Gold- 
 smith's unlucky red coat did for him with the Bish- 
 op. The Secretary of State, a very long-headed 
 person in a small way, had previously got the 
 length of the Honourable Julian Crane's foot, as 
 the vulgar express it. He had asked Crane to play 
 golf with him ; he had invited the member from Cir- 
 cleville to little dinners with him. The Secretary's 
 wife had requested Crane as a great favour to assist 
 her widowed daughter in chaperoning a party of 
 debutantes and college youths to the theatre, and 
 when a scurrilous journal had reflected grossly 
 upon himself, a married man, and the young widow, 
 Crane was in secret hugely flattered. To be linked, 
 even remotely, in a scandal with the daughter of 
 the Secretary of State was a social rise although 
 he happened to know that Cap'n Josh Slater, the 
 father of the Secretary of State, had been engaged 
 in steam-boating on the Ohio River in the wild for- 
 [33]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ties with his own grandfather, Cap'n Ebenezer 
 Crane. The Secretary's father had made money, 
 and his daughters were replicas of Lady Clara Vere 
 de Vere. Of his sons, one, the present Secretary of 
 State, had left the banks of the Ohio never to return, 
 and by a steady evolution had passed from the 
 Western Reserve College to Harvard, thence to Ox- 
 ford for a post-graduate course, to Berlin as at- 
 tache to the then Legation, thence home to exercise 
 a gift the politicians had found in him, viz., the 
 power to form a silk-stocking contingent in the 
 party to offset the silk stockings in the opposition. 
 Being a man of some brains and much perseverance, 
 he had reached the most highly ornamental position 
 in the Government of the United States the Sec- 
 retaryship of State. He maintained it with dig- 
 nity. He had, of course, long since, abjured the 
 Methodist faith, in which he was reared, and was 
 as uncompromising a Churchman as his brother, the 
 Episcopal Bishop for such had been the career of 
 the steam-boat captain's other son. Both had been 
 brought up in an auriferous atmosphere totally 
 denied the descendants of Cap'n Ebenezer Crane, 
 who had lost his all in the steam-boat business, and 
 [34]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 
 spent his last years keeping the Circleville tavern. 
 Crane knew all about this, one of his grandfather's 
 standing quarrels with Fate being that Josh Slater, 
 a durned fool, and a rascal besides, in Cap'n Ebe- 
 nezer's opinion, had made so much, where a better 
 man that is, himself couldn't make a living. 
 But Crane knew better than to refer to any of these 
 matters before the Secretary, who was indeed only 
 dimly acquainted with his father's profession. The 
 Secretary, a polished, scholarly man, was a very 
 good imitation of a statesman. He liked to be 
 called the Premier, prided himself on his resem- 
 blance to Lord Salisbury, and dressed the part to 
 perfection. During Thorndyke's chairmanship of 
 the Committee on Foreign Affairs, when the pres- 
 ent international complication had been brewing, 
 the Secretary had been a good deal annoyed by be- 
 ing sent for to the Capitol on what he considered 
 flimsy pretexts. He determined when Crane suc- 
 ceeded Thorndyke to make a bold stroke, and have 
 the chairman come to him occasionally, on the sly, 
 as it were. To this end he had written Crane a little 
 note beginning, "My Dear Crane." In it the Sec- 
 retary spoke pathetically of his lumbago, also of 
 [35]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 his age sixty-one and would Crane, on the score 
 of old friendship and the Secretary's many infirmi- 
 ties, come to see him at a certain hour at the De- 
 partment, and perhaps the necessity might be 
 avoided of the Secretary taking a trip in the 
 changeable weather to the Capitol, which otherwise 
 would be inevitable. 
 
 Crane showed this note with ill-concealed pride, 
 and was about to fall into the Secretary's little 
 trap through the telephone when Thorndyke has- 
 tily interposed: 
 
 "My dear fellow," said he, grinning, "you had 
 better wait until the Secretary's lumbago gets bet- 
 ter, rather than inaugurate the policy of running 
 up to the State Department to see him, when it is 
 his business to come here to see you. The old fellow 
 tried that game on me, but, in return, I used to get 
 the committee to invite him down here about once a 
 week to give his views on something or other for 
 which we didn't give a tinker's damn, as the Duke 
 of Wellington used to say. But it cured him. He 
 stopped inviting me cordially and informally to 
 come to the State Department to see him." 
 
 Crane's face flushed. 
 
 [36]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 
 "The d d old sneak!" he yelled and then 
 
 dashed off a curt note to the Secretary. Thorn- 
 dyke promptly confiscated this note, and dictated 
 another, which was, if anything, more affectionate 
 in tone than the Secretary's. Crane would wish, 
 above all things, to oblige the Secretary, but was 
 himself under the weather, and so forth, and so 
 forth. 
 
 "But I played golf with him at seyen o'clock 
 this morning!" cried Crane, throwing down his 
 pen. 
 
 "So much the better," replied Thorndyke. "You 
 are returning his own lie to him with interest. Go 
 on 'Possibly by to-morrow you may be well 
 enough to comply with the wish of the committee, 
 and come to the Capitol. In any event, before a 
 formal request is made for your attendance, your 
 convenience will be consulted with regard to the 
 hours and the weather.' And when you get him up 
 here put him in the sweat-box and give him all 
 that's coming to him that's the way to get on with 
 him." 
 
 "I see," said Crane, light breaking upon him, 
 "and when you had the old fellow up here, and I 
 [37]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 thought you were so friendly and polite to him, you 
 were just 'sweating' him." 
 
 "That's what I was doing. However, I reckon 
 the present Secretary to be the ideal man for the 
 place. He is highly ornamental, perfectly honest, 
 and satisfied with the shadow of power. Occasion- 
 ally he reaches out for something in the way of eti- 
 quette or attention, as in the present case, but 
 when he doesn't get it he subsides quietly. The 
 State Department has been steadily losing power 
 and prestige from the foundation of the govern- 
 ment until now, when it is recognised as a mere 
 clerical bureau and a useful social adjunct to the 
 Administration. Do you think if Daniel Webster 
 were alive to-day he would take the portfolio of 
 State? He would see the Administration at the 
 demnition bow-wows first. Mr. Blaine took it twice 
 under compulsion, and was. the most wretched and 
 restless man on earth while he had it. Both times 
 he was so much too big for the place that he became 
 exceedingly dangerous, and had to be forced out 
 each time to save the Administration from total 
 wreck. The lesson has not been lost on succeeding 
 Presidents, and there will be no more Blaines and 
 [38]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 Websters in the State Department. The trouble 
 is, however, that foreign Chancelleries persist in 
 taking the State Department seriously. They 
 can't take in that you, as chairman of the House 
 Committee on Foreign Affairs, are of a good deal 
 more consequence at present than the Secretary of 
 State. You can send for him, but he can't send for 
 you. You can call for information from him and 
 practically force him to give it to you, but he can't 
 make you tell the day of the week unless you want 
 to." 
 
 Crane, who had signed and sealed his note while 
 Thorndyke was speaking, glowed with pleasure at 
 the last words. But he returned to his grievance 
 about none of the smart set taking any particular 
 interest in what was going to happen on the mor- 
 row. 
 
 "The diplomatic people are taking the deepest 
 interest in it," replied Thorndyke, grimly, "and 
 when this report is read to-morrow they will be up 
 against a fierce proposition." Thorndyke was not 
 above using slang when in the company of men 
 alone. 
 
 They fell to work again at some last details, and 
 [39]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 it was not far from midnight when they left the 
 great white building on the hill. In spite of the en- 
 grossing matters which had employed them, both 
 men had been haunted by the recollection of their 
 conversation the night before, about Constance 
 Maitland but neither had spoken her name. 
 Thorndyke said, as they came out on the deserted 
 moonlit plaza : 
 
 "It's a pity Mrs. Crane can't be here to listen to 
 you speak to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes," replied Crane, promptly. "But I have 
 written her about it, and I shall send her a despatch 
 as soon as I get through to-morrow. By the way, 
 I sent Miss Maitland a ticket to the reserved gal- 
 lery. I shall probably see her at the French Em- 
 bassy, where I am going to take a look at the ball." 
 
 It was Crane's first invitation to the French Em- 
 bassy, and he was slightly elated at it, and being 
 unable to conceal anything, Thorndyke saw his ela- 
 tion. His only reply to Crane's important commu- 
 nication was, "Good-night here's my car." And 
 he jumped aboard the trailer just passing. 
 
 When he reached his own door he turned away 
 from it. The night was growing more enchanting- 
 [40]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 ly lovely every hour. A great white April moon 
 was riding high in the heavens, and the soft fresh- 
 ness of the spring night was in the air. Thorndyke 
 made the beauty of the night an excuse to himself 
 for remaining out of doors. In truth, he had felt 
 a yearning, ever since Crane had first told him that 
 Constance Maitland was in Washington, to see her 
 habitation it was next to seeing her. He strug- 
 gled against it for an hour or two, walking away 
 from the street wherein she dwelt. He soon found 
 himself in the poorer part of Washington, a long 
 way from the gay quarters ; a part of narrow brick 
 or frame houses, cheap churches, and many small 
 shops. He was reminded of that saying, as old as 
 Plato, who did not himself say it first : "In all cities 
 there are two cities the city of the poor and the 
 city of the rich." The city of the poor in Wash- 
 ington, however, is the least disheartening of its 
 sort in the world for even the poorest house has 
 air and space and sunlight about it and green trees 
 to shelter it. 
 
 After having wandered about until he felt 
 certain the West End was asleep, Thorndyke 
 yielded to the overmastering impulse and set out 
 [41]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 for his goal at the other end of the town. He soon 
 entered Massachusetts Avenue that long and 
 beautiful avenue, shaded with double rows of lin- 
 dens, their pale green buds breaking out into their 
 first delicate leaf, the vista broken by open spaces 
 with statues, and closing with the rich foliage of 
 Dupont Circle. All was quiet, silent, and more and 
 more brightly moonlit. No glaring gas lamps 
 marred the light or darkness of the perfect night 
 for in Washington when the moon shines the gas 
 lamps don't shine. 
 
 Thorndyke's soul, dragging his unwilling feet, 
 brought him to one of the pretty side streets open- 
 ing upon the splendid avenue. It was here that 
 Constance Maitland's house was. 
 
 Thorndyke believed such is the folly of love 
 he would have known the house even if Crane had 
 not mentioned the number. But the number was 
 conclusive. It was an old-fashioned house, broad 
 and low for a city house. It had been the advance 
 guard of fashion. There was a little strip of gar- 
 den and shrubbery at the side, where clipped cedars 
 were formally set, and three great lilac-bushes were 
 hastening into a bloom of purple splendour. The 
 [42]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 scent of the lilacs brought back the terrace on Lake 
 Como, where lilacs also grew, and where he and 
 Constance had spent those glowing and unforgot- 
 ten hours and by moonlight they had often sung 
 together the old duet from Don Pasquale, "Oh, 
 April Night!" Thorndyke, entranced and lost in 
 visions, began to hum the old, old air. What 
 strange power of restoring the past have old songs 
 and the perfume of flowers long remembered! 
 Thorndyke felt as in a dream ; all the intervening 
 years melted away; it was once more Como, with 
 its moonlight, its flower-scents, its songs, its loves 
 and then he looked up and saw Constance Maitland 
 standing before him. 
 
 She had just returned from the ball the car- 
 riage from which she had alighted was rolling off. 
 As she met Thorndyke face to face on the sidewalk 
 she started slightly, and her long white mantle 
 slipped from her delicate bare shoulders to the 
 ground. Her eyes met Thorndyke's everything 
 was in that gaze except surprise. When two per- 
 sons think of each other daily for many years, the 
 strangeness is not in their meeting but in their sep- 
 aration. They had seen each other last on a moon- 
 [43]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 lit night, and the sweet scent of lilacs was in the air 
 and now, after eighteen years, it was so alike ! 
 
 The moonlight was merciful to them both. 
 Neither saw all of Time's earmarks Thorndyke 
 saw none at all in Constance. Her girlish figure 
 was quite unchanged. Her pale yellow ball-gown, 
 the pearls around her throat, were youthfulness it- 
 self. She had never been remarkable for beauty, 
 but her face showed no lines, her silky black hair, 
 simply arranged, revealed none of the silver strands 
 that were visible by daylight. Thorndyke received 
 a distinct shock at her youthfulness. It was his lost 
 Constance of the Villa Flora. 
 
 She held her hand out to him without a word, 
 and he clasped it. In that clasp Constance realised 
 that she had all and more of her old power over 
 him. Thorndyke could not have said a word at 
 first to save his life, but Constance, with equal feel- 
 ing, had a woman's glibness, and could have 
 plunged into commonplaces on the spot. But she 
 refrained, knowing that her silence was eloquent. 
 She withdrew her hand lingeringly. Then Thorn- 
 dyke saw the white cloak lying on the ground. He 
 picked it up and held it wide for Constance, and 
 [44]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 
 when he enfolded her in the cloak she was enfolded 
 for one thrilling, perilous instant in his arms. An- 
 other moment and she would be at his mercy. Con- 
 stance, knowing this, and suddenly remembering the 
 maid waiting for her, and possibly belated neigh- 
 bours looking out of their windows, withdrew a lit- 
 tle. This restored Thorndyke's vagrant senses, and 
 after a moment or two he said : 
 
 "It does not seem now so long since we 
 parted." 
 
 "It is very long; it is nearly eighteen years," 
 Constance replied. Her .voice was the sweet voice 
 of the far South, for her young eyes had first 
 opened upon the blue waters of another lake than 
 Como Lake Pontchartrain. In her speech there 
 were continual traces of her Louisiana birth 
 Thorndyke had ever thought her voice and her lit- 
 tle mannerisms of language among her greatest 
 charms and he was confirmed in his belief at the 
 first word she uttered. He said to her : 
 
 "I did not know until yesterday that you were in 
 Washington." 
 
 "I did not like to send you a card," Constance 
 replied. 
 
 [45]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "You might have done so much." 
 
 "I do not know which of us is in the wrong," she 
 said said it so deliberately that it might convey 
 a thousand meanings. "But if you are waiting for 
 me to ask you come. Of course, I cannot ask you 
 in now; if we were as young as we once were, it 
 would be quite dreadful for us to be standing and 
 talking as we are but both being old enough to 
 take care of ourselves, we have our liberty." 
 
 Love and hate are closely allied, and often rea- 
 son alike from the same premises. As Thorndyke 
 realised more and more that Constance Maitland 
 still had power to disturb him powerfully he resent- 
 ed her ease and tranquillity and aware of the 
 lines in his face, conscious that he was growing bald, 
 he felt injured at her continuing youth. Evi- 
 dently, the recollections which had made him for- 
 swear love, forego wealth, and had turned him into 
 a Congressional drudge, had left no mark on her. 
 He took, at once, her hint to leave her, and said 
 stiffly : 
 
 "If you will give me your key " 
 
 Constance handed it to him ; he went up the steps 
 and opened the door. The gaslight fell full upon 
 [46]
 
 THE RISE OF A PREMIER 
 her, and it was as if with every glance they became 
 more infatuated with each other and found it hard- 
 er to part. 
 
 "To-morrow," said Thorndyke. 
 
 "Yes; to-morrow," Constance echoed, dreamily. 
 
 Thorndyke banged the door to and literally ran 
 down the street. 
 
 When he came to himself, as it were, he was in 
 his own room, smoking. He kept on saying to him- 
 self, "To-morrow to-morrow," and then called 
 himself a fool a purely academic proceeding, how- 
 ever, which never really influences any issue between 
 a man and his will. When at last he went to bed the 
 sky was opalescent with the coming dawn. 
 
 [47]
 
 Chapter Three 
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS AND THE SHOUTING 
 
 After four hours of sleep Thorndjke waked with 
 the uncomfortable feeling which waits on excess in 
 everything, especially excess in the emotions after 
 one is forty years of age. The tumults of youth 
 are killing after forty. 
 
 He got through with his breakfast and his mail 
 under the disadvantages of seeing visions of Con- 
 stance Maitland floating all about him visions of 
 Constance offering to give up her fortune and live 
 with him on what he could save of his Congressional 
 salary after supplying the wants of his crippled sis- 
 ter, Elizabeth. And in case he should lose the 
 nomination at the hands of his boss, as he had once 
 done, there would be nothing at all for Constance 
 or Elizabeth, either, nor for himself that he could 
 then foresee. What a strange infatuation was Con- 
 gressional life ! It was almost as strange as the in- 
 fatuation for a woman forever barred from him 
 [48]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 and by the worst luck in the world, he, Geoffrey 
 Thorndyke, was the victim of both! 
 
 These unpleasant thoughts walked every step of 
 the way with him to the Capitol on that bright 
 April morning. When he reached the great white 
 building, sitting majestically on the hill, he was one 
 of a vast multitude of people surging toward the 
 south wing. It still lacked half an hour of twelve, 
 and the flag was not yet hoisted. Crowds were dis- 
 embarking from the street-cars, the plaza was black 
 with carriages, and over all was that tension of feel- 
 ing which communicates itself to thousands and tens 
 of thousands of persons at once. Something was 
 about to happen that day in the House of Repre- 
 sentatives. As Crane said, the smart set cared noth- 
 ing for it, but their majesties, the people, were 
 deeply interested in it, and had every reason to be, 
 and assembled in great crowds to see the first act. 
 Thorndyke made his way to his committee-room. 
 No one was there except Crane. The gentleman 
 from Circleville was dressed for his first appearance 
 as a star. Thorndyke, being in rather a savage hu- 
 mour, thought he had never seen Crane so over- 
 dressed, so full of elation and vain simplicity, and, 
 [49]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 in short, so nearly a fool. In this he did Crane great 
 injustice, for Crane never was, at any time, in the 
 category of fools, although he often did foolish 
 things. 
 
 He spoke to Thorn dyke affably, although with a 
 slight air of superiority, holding in his hand the 
 report of which Thorndyke had supplied the most 
 effective part the close reasoning, the conclusive 
 logic, the historical precedents, and the invincible 
 moderation. Thorndyke might indeed have said of 
 that report, as Caesar said of the Gallic wars, "All 
 of this I saw most of this I was." And in the de- 
 bate that would follow, Thorndyke would be obliged 
 to take care of Crane for Crane, although a pow- 
 erful and attractive speaker, was easily disconcert- 
 ed when on his feet, and had a tendency to panic 
 under the enfilading fire of debate. Thorndyke was 
 not an orator in the popular sense, but when it came 
 to having all his wits about him, to defending his 
 position, to bold incursions into the enemy's terri- 
 tory, he was not surpassed by any man in the House. 
 As his colleagues said of him, he always went docu- 
 mented, and carried concealed parliamentary weap- 
 ons about his person. 
 
 [50]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 By way of revenge, Thorndyke began to chaff 
 his colleague on the subject of his dress. Crane's 
 shirt-bosom snapped like giant crackers, his cuffs 
 rattled, his collar creaked. He was conscious of 
 this, and glowered darkly at Thorndyke's jokes. 
 Thorndyke's clothes, in contradistinction to 
 Crane's, were the clothes of a clothes-wearing man. 
 They were neither old nor new, neither out of the 
 fashion nor conspicuously in the fashion they 
 were, in short, the clothes of a man whose father 
 before him had worn clothes. 
 
 Both men were in their seats, which were near to- 
 gether, when the Speaker's gavel fell. The gal- 
 leries were packed, the corridors jammed. In the 
 diplomatic gallery every seat was occupied. The 
 bright costumes of the Orientals and the flower- 
 decked spring hats of the ladies made it gay. The 
 gallery reserved for the President's family and the 
 Cabinet families was also full. So great was the 
 pressure that the motion was at once made to admit 
 ladies to the floor of the House. They came flutter- 
 ing in like a flock of pigeons, and soon filled all the 
 space back of the desks. They were not, in gen- 
 eral, of the smart set, who, as Crane complained, 
 [51]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 were like Gallic, and cared for none of these things 
 but were chiefly of official families. 
 
 As soon as the prayer and some routine business 
 was over, the report of the Committee on For- 
 eign Affairs was called for. The calling of the roll 
 had been waived it was easy enough to see that 
 every member was present who could get there, as 
 well as many Senators. When the report was hand- 
 ed to the reading-clerk there was a deep pause. 
 Thorndyke looked at Crane. He was very pale, but 
 the veins in his neck were pulsating strongly. He 
 glanced up at the reserved gallery at the side, and 
 his face flushed deeply. Thorndyke followed his 
 eye. It fell upon Constance Maitland sitting in the 
 front row. She was dressed in a rich black toilette 
 which contrasted strongly with the brilliant colours 
 around her. A delicate black tulle hat sat upon her 
 graceful head, and she fanned herself slowly with a 
 large black fan. 
 
 Her distinction of appearance was extreme, and 
 she showed her perfect knowledge of it by the sim- 
 ple but effective trick of wearing black when there 
 was a riot of colour around her. By means of a 
 good figure and perfect dressing this seduced the 
 [52]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 world into thinking her far handsomer than she 
 really was. Thorndyke recognised that when he 
 saw how much more attention she attracted than 
 much younger and more beautiful women. 
 
 But then the silence was broken by the great, 
 bell-like voice of the reading-clerk reading the re- 
 port. As the clerk proceeded, Thorndyke perceived 
 that the tone and manner of the report were making 
 a strong impression. The matter of it could not be 
 wholly digested, but the manner of presentation 
 commanded attention. Nearly every one of the 
 three hundred and fifty members present saw 
 Thorndyke's fine Italian hand in the business but 
 the crowd gazed in admiration at the tall and hand- 
 some member from Circleville, who was reaping the 
 glory of the present occasion. The reading over, 
 Crane arose, with a few notes in his hand, prepared 
 to defend the report. He was a born speaker, and 
 as soon as he began to talk he forgot his clothes and 
 also made his audience forget them, too. Thorn- 
 dyke listened with enforced admiration. Crane 
 spoke lucidly, strongly, yet temperately Thorn- 
 dyke had taught him the enormous power of mod- 
 eration. Thorndyke, quite unobserved, watched 
 [53]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 the faces of the European diplomats in the diplo- 
 matic gallery, who were listening intently. One 
 man, whom Thorndyke reckoned the ablest diplomat 
 among those representing Western Europe, stealth- 
 ily took out his handkerchief and wiped his fore- 
 head. An Ambassadress dropped her card-case at 
 his feet and he did not see it. Another, a round, 
 red-faced, sensible, guileless man, looked about him 
 with a frankly puzzled air, which said as plainly as 
 words, "God bless my soul what are we to do about 
 this?" The younger men unconsciously assumed 
 expressions of contempt, indifference, and displeas- 
 ure. They had every reason to be displeased at the 
 turn international affairs were taking and there 
 was no alternative but war. 
 
 Thorndyke, being experienced in legislation, 
 could very readily estimate the effect on his col- 
 leagues of what Crane was saying. It was tremen- 
 dous. The vast hall was stilled, and the stillness 
 grew intense. By some communicable psychic force 
 all knew that here was a great issue met and dis- 
 posed of for a hundred years to come. To the 
 Americans present it was a source of pride and of 
 relief. The mellow, unchanging sunlight that 
 [54]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 glowed softly through the iridescent glass roof of 
 the hall fell upon their faces, serious indeed, but 
 steady and cheerful. The Congress was back of 
 that report, and the people were behind the Con- 
 gress. There was no hysteria among the Congress 
 or the people, but a fixed and resolute determina- 
 tion which was, in effect, the registering of a decree 
 of fate. 
 
 Crane spoke for half an hour, his rich, full voice 
 growing richer and fuller, without becoming loud- 
 er, as he proceeded. At the very end he had allowed 
 himself a little leeway, rightly judging that by that 
 time the audience would be wrought up to the pitch 
 which would permit what is called eloquence. When 
 the last sentences, ringing with terse Americanism, 
 rolled out, the effect was magical. A great storm of 
 feeling had been evoked and had responded. The 
 applause was long and loud and deep and steady, 
 like the breaking of ocean waves upon granite 
 rocks. Crane's words had pierced the heart of 
 every American present, and a common impulse 
 brought all of them to their feet. Even the Speak- 
 er, not knowing what he was doing, rose from his 
 chair, then sat down again shamefacedly. None es- 
 [55]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 caped the tumult outwardly except the European 
 occupants of the diplomatic gallery. They were 
 ostentatiously cool, and talked and laughed during 
 the tempest of applause, while secretly they were 
 more agitated than any of the cheering multitude. 
 They had heard that which meant surrender to each 
 and all of them. 
 
 The Speaker's gavel descended presently, and 
 quiet was partially restored. Crane was surrounded 
 by members of both parties congratulating him, 
 and he received their praise with a modesty more 
 sincere than was generally believed. But to him 
 had it been brought home that the crisis was bigger 
 than the man, and the people were bigger than the 
 crisis. Thorndyke, sitting near him, had shared in 
 the tempest of feeling, but a sickening disappoint- 
 ment possessed him when he saw Crane's personal 
 triumph. In all of Thorndyke's years of labour 
 Fate had never given him any such a chance as 
 this. But it was his years of labour which made 
 Crane's success possible. He could imagine the tur- 
 gid, strained spread-eagleism, the powerful but ill- 
 reasoned speech, which Crane, but for him, would 
 have made. His eyes, in his cold fit of chagrin, 
 [56]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 wandered toward the place where Constance Mait- 
 land sat. A slender black figure, gracefully hold- 
 ing up the train of the black gown, was just disap- 
 pearing through the door. Thorndyke's impulse 
 to follow Constance was accentuated by a strong 
 desire, if there should be any debate, to leave 
 Crane to his fate, but he soon found out that 
 the whole matter would go over until the next day, 
 and by that time his better self would assert itself, 
 and he would do his part not for Crane's sake, but 
 for the sake of that overmastering sense of public 
 duty which he cherished religiously and never al- 
 luded to. So, finding himself free and superfluous, 
 he left the chamber, partly to avoid the sight of 
 Crane's triumph and partly drawn by Constance 
 Maitland. Before leaving, however, he went up like 
 a gentleman and congratulated Crane, who, moved 
 by an honest and generous impulse, expressed the 
 utmost gratitude to him. 
 
 Out in the spring sunshine that flooded the plaza 
 and the parklike gardens and blazed upon the gold- 
 en dome of the fair white National Library, visi- 
 ble beyond the fringe of great green trees, Thorn- 
 dyke looked about him for Constance Maitland. 
 [57]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 She was just stepping into a smart little brougham 
 with a good-looking pair of brown cobs, and drove 
 away toward the quiet, shady, beautiful but un- 
 fashionable part of the town on the east. 
 
 The carriage went slowly, and Thorndyke, pur- 
 suing it, saw it stop a few blocks from the Capitol, 
 by one of those parks large enough for one to wan- 
 der in and feel alone as if in the woods. Constance 
 descended from the carriage holding her skirts 
 daintily, and walked into the park. Thorndyke 
 boldly followed her she had said to-morrow and 
 this was to-morrow. 
 
 He came upon her in a few minutes in a little 
 open space, shut in, except for the pathway, by 
 shrubbery on every side. The grass was full of 
 daisies which had just put on their little white shirts 
 and yellow caps, and a pair of robins hopped about 
 with as much gayety and freedom as if they were 
 country robins instead of town robins. 
 
 Constance was sitting on a rusty iron bench, a 
 little in the shade. She had taken off her gloves, 
 and her hands, small and innocent of rings, lay in 
 her lap. She seemed to be day-dreaming, as if she 
 were eighteen instead of thirty-eight years of age. 
 [58]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 Thorndyke was pleased to see that by the search- 
 ing light of day she did not look nearly so young 
 as in the mysterious night. But she was not the 
 less charming on that account she had simply 
 reached the fulness of her development in mind, in 
 feeling, and even in beauty, such as hers was. 
 
 As Thorndyke took off his hat and bowed to her 
 he received a distinct invitation, by means of her 
 eyes and smile, to remain, so he seated himself on the 
 bench by her side. She began the conversation by 
 saying : 
 
 "I have just come from the House. It was very 
 exciting. I do not see how any one can call life in 
 America dull. It is Europe which is dull it is 
 stagnation compared with this, our country." 
 
 Thorndyke again noted, with delight, in her 
 speech that slight trace of her Creole blood which 
 years had not changed. She said "do not" and "can 
 not" in place of "don't" and "can't;" she took ex- 
 traordinary pains to pronounce the th, and had a 
 way of accenting last syllables in a manner not rec- 
 ommended by the dictionaries. The result was piq- 
 uant and charming. Constance herself was quite 
 unconscious of it, and Thorndyke remembered that 
 [59]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 in the old days he could bring her to pique and pouts 
 at any time by asking her to pronounce certain 
 words and phrases which were a perpetual stum- 
 bling-block to her. He did not venture now to 
 laugh at her about this pretty idiosyncrasy, but 
 gravely took up the thread of conversation where 
 she dropped it. 
 
 "What did you think of Crane's speech?" 
 "It was quite extraordinary. But it was not like 
 him. It seemed to me as if he were making some- 
 body else's speech. Was it yours ?" 
 
 If Constance had searched the realms of thought 
 to find out the words that would most soothe and 
 satisfy Thorndyke at that moment she could not 
 have found any better than those she uttered. 
 Smarting under the sense of having sown for an- 
 other to reap, Thorndyke needed consolation. He 
 had the defects of his qualities, and along with his 
 passionate devotion to parliamentary life was the 
 natural desire for popular applause. But he had 
 never had it. He fondly believed that had this su- 
 perb opportunity been awarded him he should have 
 proved equal to it. Had it but occurred two months 
 earlier ! He and not Crane would have been envel- 
 [60]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 oped in trailing clouds of glory. But Constance 
 Constance, with her woman's wit, had seen that 
 some one else besides Crane deserved the credit for 
 that effort. He made no reply to her questions be- 
 yond a slight smile, but he let it be seen that she 
 had hit the bull's eye. 
 
 "Mr. Crane tells me he knows you," he said, 
 presently. 
 
 "Yes," answered Constance. "He has been a few 
 times to see me. Last night I met him at the ball at 
 the French Embassy. I danced with him." 
 
 "He owned up to me some time ago that he 
 was taking dancing-lessons at forty-two, with a 
 wife and children in Circleville. I fancy his per- 
 formance answers the description that Herodotus 
 gives of the dancing of Hippocleides it is divert- 
 ing to himself, but disgusting to others." 
 
 "On the contrary, he dances very well when he 
 is not trying to do his best. Perhaps you are sur- 
 prised that I should still care to dance but remem- 
 ber, pray, my mother was Creole French." 
 
 And to this Thorndyke made a speech which 
 brought the blood into Constance Maitland's 
 cheeks, knocking ten years off her age at once. 
 [61]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "I remember everything," he said. 
 
 After a moment's pause Constance, still with a 
 heightened colour, continued : 
 
 "I have seen Mr. Crane several times this winter 
 not only in my own house, but in others. When- 
 ever I am with him I am consumed with pity for 
 him." 
 
 "He does not need your pity now," said Thorn- 
 dyke, grimly. "It is more needed by his senior 
 Senator, who is the fly-wheel of the political ma- 
 chine in his State. The old gentleman, I know, is 
 at this minute walking the floor in his committee- 
 room and gnashing his teeth over Crane's success. 
 The senior Senator took Crane up, send him to 
 Congress, and thought he had secured a really effi- 
 cient understrapper. I don't think Crane will fill 
 that place after to-day's triumph, and the senior 
 Senator knows it, and has got to discover means, if 
 possible, to garrote Crane politically before the next 
 Congressional campaign." 
 
 "I see," replied Constance, who was only interest- 
 ed in the subject because she saw Thorndyke was. 
 "Mr. Crane, by virtue of making your speech, has 
 got beyond the control of his master. By the way 
 [62]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 I am so ignorant of Congressional matters how 
 can I get the Congressional Record sent me every 
 day?" 
 
 "You have already got it by mentioning to me 
 that you wished it. It is one of my few privileges. 
 I am glad to do at least that much for you." 
 
 Thorndyke heard himself saying these things 
 without his own volition in the least. If Constance 
 Maitland were willing at this moment to give up a 
 fortune for poverty with him, would he accept the 
 sacrifice? Never. How could a woman of her ma- 
 ture age, nurtured in luxury, descend to poverty 
 for poverty is the lot of every member of Congress 
 who wishes to live in something more than mere de- 
 cency on his salary. And yet Thorndyke, at every 
 opportunity, had assured Constance Maitland of 
 his un forgetting, of his tender, recollections in 
 short, of his love. Nor had she showed any unwill- 
 ingness to listen. It is not a woman's first love for 
 which she wrecks her life ; it is her last love that 
 final struggle for supremacy. There can be no 
 more after that. Sappho, on the great white rock 
 of Mitylene, knew this and perished. 
 
 Some thoughts like this came into Constance 
 [63]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Maitland's mind, and, driving away her colour, re- 
 stored to her the lately vanished years. Silence fell 
 between them for a while, until Constance roused 
 herself, and, affecting cheerfulness, said : 
 
 "I shall study the Congressional Record with in- 
 terest. Everything in one's own country is of in- 
 terest after a long and painful exile." 
 
 "You should read Lord Bolingbroke's defence of 
 exile," replied Thorndyke, moving a little nearer to 
 her, and resting his elbow on the back of the bench 
 so that he could look into her pensive, changing 
 face. 
 
 "And yet, I daresay, Lord Bolingbroke pined in 
 his exile. Nobody believed him when he said he did 
 not mind. Mine, however, was complete. My 
 uncle, von Hesselt, who was an honourable man in 
 his way, thought he was carrying out my aunt's 
 wishes by keeping me wholly away from all Ameri- 
 cans and wholly with foreigners." 
 
 "But you could have left him after you were of 
 age." 
 
 "Ah, you do not know ! He was the most terrible 
 sufferer you can imagine, for fifteen years. And 
 what was worse, he was surrounded by people, his 
 [64]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 own relatives, who, I truly believe, would have short- 
 ened his life if they could. He knew this, and 
 feared it even more than was reasonable. Once, my 
 longing for my country grew such that it over- 
 came me, and I told my uncle I must, I must come 
 to America. He pleaded with me imagine an old 
 man, whose life was one long stretch of pain and 
 fear, pleading with you until he fell prone in a 
 paroxysm of despair! I, too, was in despair, and 
 I promised him I would remain with him during his 
 life. I hardly knew what I was saying I was not 
 twenty-one at the time but I knew well enough 
 after it was said. I kept my word, and I nursed him 
 through his last illness and closed his eyes in death. 
 Then, as soon as all was over, I sailed for America. 
 I feel now as if I never wished to see Europe again." 
 
 "And did Baron von Hesselt realise the enormous 
 sacrifice you made for him?" 
 
 "Yes that is, partly." 
 
 "Your aunt certainly was most unjust to you," 
 said Thorndyke, coolly. "I mean, that provision 
 robbing you of all your fortune in case you marry 
 an American." 
 
 "Yes, very unjust," replied Constance, with equal 
 [65]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 coolness, although the flush returned to her 
 cheeks. 
 
 "And I I was to blame for that," cried Thorn- 
 dyke, venturing farther upon ticklish ground. 
 
 "Not altogether," replied Constance, maintain- 
 ing the steadiness of her voice. "My aunt hated 
 our country; she could not forget the Civil War; 
 and she meant poor soul, I forgive her now 
 that I should never return to America permanently. 
 It was a strange thing to do, but I must admit 
 my aunt to have been in some respects both a strange 
 and a foolish woman. Let us not speak of her 
 again. I am back, and if I feel as I do now I shall 
 never live in Europe again. It is time for me to 
 prepare to grow old." 
 
 She said this 'with a wan little smile, and all at 
 once thought with terror of her age ; there was but 
 four or five years' difference between Thorndyke 
 and herself, and that difference, at a certain point, 
 becomes transferred to the gentleman's side of the 
 ledger. Suddenly the spring afternoon seemed to 
 become melancholy and overcast. A sharp wind 
 sprang up from the near-by river; the world 
 turned from gold to gray. At the same moment 
 [66]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 Thorndyke and Constance rose and walked away 
 from the spot that had been only a little while ago 
 so sweet and sunny. 
 
 "Why is it," asked Constance, as they followed 
 the pathway leading out of the park, "a spring 
 morning is the merriest thing in life, and a spring 
 evening the saddest?" 
 
 "Why should anything be sad to you, spring 
 evenings or any other times?" asked Thorndyke, 
 quietly and with perfect sincerity. 
 
 "Why should any one be sad at all? Because 
 we are human, I suppose," was Constance's answer 
 to this. 
 
 As they came out upon the streets, which were 
 less deserted than usual, Thorndyke looked toward 
 the south wing of the Capitol. The flag was flut- 
 tering down from its flag-staff . 
 
 "The House has adjourned," he said, "and some 
 history has been made to-day likewise a great rep- 
 utation for our friend Crane." 
 
 The brougham was driving up and down, and the 
 
 coachman, perceiving the graceful black figure on 
 
 the sidewalk, drove toward them. Thorndyke 
 
 noted, with disgust, the elegance of the turnout 
 
 [67]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 the two perfectly matched cobs, the silver-mounted 
 harness of Spanish leather, the miniature brougham 
 with "C. M." in cipher on the panels the whole 
 must have cost about half his yearly income. This, 
 together with Crane's remarkable triumph, made 
 him surly, and he said, stiffly, as he assisted Con- 
 stance into the brougham : 
 
 "You gave me permission to call to-day." 
 
 "Yes, but I withdraw it. It is now nearly three 
 o'clock. I have not had my luncheon, I am 
 tired, and I must rest this afternoon, and I go out 
 to dinner. To-morrow at five." 
 
 Her tone and manner discounted her words. It 
 was as if she were saying : "I must save something 
 for to-morrow I will not be a spendthrift of my 
 joys." Thorndyke, finding nothing to discompose 
 him in her words, replied, in a very good humour : 
 
 "It is always to-morrow but to-morrow is bet- 
 ter than not at all. Good-bye." 
 
 The brougham rolled off, and Thorndyke 
 stepped aboard a street-car bound for the West End. 
 
 At the Capitol plaza a great crowd got on, 
 among them the two gentlemen whom Thorndyke 
 affectionately described as his boss and Crane's boss. 
 [68]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 The two men stood together on the platform out- 
 side. Both of them revealed in their faces their 
 mastery of men and affairs, for your true boss is 
 necessarily a very considerable man. Senator 
 Standiford, Thorndyke's boss, had an iron jaw, 
 which was emphasised by a low brow, but his face 
 was not without a touch of ideality. Senator 
 Bicknell, Crane's boss, had likewise a determined 
 face, but his forehead and eyes betrayed the human 
 weakness which made him like clever men as his in- 
 struments. Both men were millionaires. Senator 
 Standiford lived in three rooms at a hotel, rode in 
 street-cars, and gave liberally of his money to cam- 
 paign funds, charities, and his poor relations, but 
 was never known to part with an atom of his power 
 if he could help it. Senator Bicknell fared sumptu- 
 ously every day, had a splendid house and gorgeous 
 carriages, only rode in the street-cars for a lark, 
 and was reported to be a skinflint in money matters, 
 and somewhat foolishly lavish in giving away his 
 power. The two men exchanged some words which 
 Thorndyke, wedged inside as he was, could not but 
 hear. Senator Standiford was saying to his col- 
 league : 
 
 [69]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "S. M. & L. stock must be going down when you 
 ride in a street-car." 
 
 "I lost one of my coach-horses last night," re- 
 plied Senator Bicknell, "and can't use my carriage 
 to-day." 
 
 "Misfortunes never come singly," said Senator 
 Standiford, enigmatically, then adding, "I suppose 
 it's in order to congratulate you on the success of 
 your protege, Crane, to-day?" 
 
 Thorndyke could scarcely keep from laughing 
 at the look of chagrin which came over Senator 
 Bicknell's countenance at this. 
 
 "Y-yes," he answered, dubiously. 
 
 "Don't get in a panic," kept on Senator Standi- 
 ford, with rude good-humour; "I know how it is 
 with those fellows. Crane thinks from this day 
 forth that you are a back number, an old fogy, 
 and a dead cock in the pit. He will go into what he 
 considers a grooming process for the next four 
 years oh, I know those fellows ! He will kick up 
 a lot of dust in the gubernatorial convention, will 
 make a great display of not wanting the nomina- 
 tion, and will bide his time until your term expires. 
 Then he will find it is a grueling and not a groom- 
 [70]
 
 DOWN AMONG THE CAPTAINS 
 ing he has had, and he will get a small bunch of 
 votes, but I don't think you need take the fellow 
 seriously just now." 
 
 At this last sentence Senator Bicknell's face shone 
 like the sun. It shone the more when Senator 
 Standif ord kept on : 
 
 "There's no reason to fear a man who makes a 
 good speech " 
 
 "I am in no fear of any one," gravely replied 
 Senator Bicknell, who thought it essential to his 
 dignity to say so much. 
 
 "It's the strong debater who is likely to become 
 formidable. There's Thorndyke now Crane has 
 made the speech largely Thorndyke's but he is 
 totally unequal to the running fire of debate. 
 Thorndyke could do him up inside of ten minutes. 
 Luckily for him, the debate will not be fierce, and 
 Thorndyke will really conduct it." 
 
 "Mr. Thorndyke is a very able man," said Sena- 
 tor Bicknell, as if thinking aloud. 
 
 "Yes, but totally without ambition," replied 
 Senator Standiford, gravely, and Thorndyke, 
 within the car, laughed silently. 
 
 It was, however, no laughing matter, but Thorn- 
 [71]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 dyke, having chosen his role for better or for worse, 
 could only cleave to it, forsaking all others. How- 
 ever, he would see Constance Maitland the next day 
 at five o'clock. There was balm in Gilead, or hash- 
 eesh in the pipe, he knew not exactly which. 
 
 [72]
 
 Chapter Four 
 
 GOVEENMENT WITHOUT THE CONSENT OF THE 
 GOVERNED 
 
 Life is a battle and a march especially public life. 
 Thorndyke waked the next morning prepared for 
 both a battle and a march. A glance at the morn- 
 ing newspapers showed that the country was entire- 
 ly with the Congress, and the people, having given 
 their orders, would see to it that these orders were 
 promptly obeyed. The Continental press of Eu- 
 rope with few exceptions barked furiously. The 
 French newspapers alone retained dignity and good 
 sense, pointing out the inevitable trend of events, 
 and advised that, instead of abusing the United 
 States, they should be copied in that system which 
 had made them great, not by war, but by peace. The 
 English newspapers were fair, but in some of them 
 bitterness was expressed at England being shoul- 
 dered out of her place as the greatest of the world- 
 powers by the young giant of the West. There 
 [73]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 was in all of them, however, a note of triumph, that 
 this first place had been lost only to an offshoot of 
 the sturdy parent stock. This sentiment is often 
 ridiculed as a peculiarly absurd form of national 
 self-love, but there is, in reality, nothing ridiculous 
 about it. As long as self-love is a part of nations 
 and individuals, so long will each nation and each 
 individual strive to share in the general stock of 
 glory, achievement, and success. 
 
 In the American newspapers the man most 
 prominent was Crane. He was compared to Henry 
 Clay, to Stephen A. Douglas, to any and every 
 American public man who had early in life made 
 a meteoric rise in Congress. He was represented 
 as the embodiment of youth with the wisdom of 
 age. One newspaper reckoned him to be a political 
 Chatterton, and called him "the Wondrous Boy." 
 His beauty was lauded, his voice, his delivery, the 
 fit of his torusers; and one enthusiastic journal in 
 Indianapolis promptly nominated him for the 
 Presidency. Thorndyke searched the newspapers 
 carefully, and did not find his own name once men- 
 tioned. He reflected upon Horace Greely's remark 
 that fame is a vapour. 
 
 [74]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 Disappointing as it was to him to feel that an- 
 other had reaped his harvest, it did not give him 
 acute pain ; for he had waked that morning with 
 the agreeable consciousness which comes occasion- 
 ally to every human being, that the world is more 
 interesting to-day than it was yesterday ; that con- 
 sciousness which illuminates the cold, gray stage of 
 life, and indicates that the lights are about to be 
 turned up and the play to begin. The kind tones 
 of Constance Maitland's voice were still in Thorn- 
 dyke's ears, and the unmistakable look of interest 
 in her soft eyes had visited him in dreams. He was 
 no nearer marrying her than he had been at any 
 time during the past eighteen years; the same ob- 
 stacle was there a very large, real, terrifying, and 
 obvious obstacle but there was also a sweet and 
 comforting suspicion in his mind that Constance, 
 as well as himself, had cherished the idyl of their 
 youth. And then, by daylight, she did not look so 
 preposterously girlish as she had looked by moon- 
 light and in ball-dress. This gave Thorndyke con- 
 siderable pleasure as he brushed the remnants of his 
 hair into positions where they would do the most 
 good. Her apparent advantage of him in the mat- 
 [75]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ter of youth and good looks had been disturbing to 
 him at first. She still had much of youth and 
 great good looks, but yet, a man with scanty hair 
 and a grayish moustache would not look like an old 
 fool beside her, as he had feared. 
 
 Thorndyke, according to his custom, walked to 
 the Capitol. The morning, like most spring morn- 
 ings in Washington, was as beautiful as the first 
 morning in the garden of Eden. He chose unfre- 
 quented streets, and, passing under the long green 
 arcades, had only the trees for his companionship 
 on his walk. 
 
 Instead of reaching the building by way of the 
 plaza, Thorndyke chose rather to ascend the long 
 flights of steps leading upward from terrace to ter- 
 race on the west front. It is a way little used, but 
 singularly beautiful, with its marble balustrades, its 
 lush greenness of shrubbery, and the noble view both 
 of the building and the fair white city embosomed 
 in trees, spread out like a dream-city before the eye. 
 Half-way up Thorndyke saw Senator Standiford 
 sitting on one of the iron benches placed on the 
 falls of the terrace. Thorndyke was surprised to 
 see him there, and it occurred to him at once that 
 [76]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 it was a premeditated meeting on the Senator's 
 part. 
 
 He was a tall, ugly old man with chin-whiskers, 
 but his appearance was redeemed by the power 
 which spoke from his strongly marked face, and 
 by his punctilious, old-fashioned dress and extreme 
 neatness. He wore a silk hat made from a block he 
 had used for thirty years. His coat, gray and 
 wide-skirted, seemed of the same vintage, and his 
 spotless collar of antique pattern, and his large 
 black silk necktie might have been worn by Daniel 
 Webster himself. A big pair of gold spectacles 
 and a gold-headed cane completed a costume which 
 was admirably harmonious, and produced the effect 
 of an old lady in 1903 with the side curls and cap 
 of 1853. 
 
 The Senator had a newspaper spread out before 
 him, but as Thorndyke approached folded it up, 
 pushed his gold spectacles up on his forehead, and 
 called out : 
 
 "Hello ! Have you read about the 'Wondrous 
 Boy' this morning?" 
 
 "I have," replied Thorndyke, smiling pleasantly 
 as he lifted his hat, and in response to a silent invi- 
 [77]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 tation he seated himself on the bench by Standi- 
 ford's side. 
 
 "Great speech, that," continued the Senator. 
 "At first I was disposed to give you the credit for 
 all of it but there's something in that fellow 
 Crane. You couldn't have coached him so well if 
 he hadn't been capable of learning." 
 
 "You do me too much honour," replied 'Thorn- 
 dyke, laughing, but with something like bitterness. 
 
 Senator Standiford continued with a dry con- 
 tortion of the lips which was meant for a smile : 
 
 "But you'll see, my son, that your friend Crane 
 won't grow quite so fast as he thinks he will. In 
 our times public men require the seasoning of expe- 
 rience before they amount to anything. There'll be 
 no more Henry Clays elected to the House of Rep- 
 resentatives before they are thirty. The world was 
 young, then, but we have matured rapidly. It is 
 true that we have relaxed the rule of the Senate a 
 little, and allow the new senators to speak in the 
 Senate Chamber at a much earlier period in their 
 senatorial service than formerly. But speech-mak- 
 ing is a dangerous pastime. Much of the small suc- 
 cess I have achieved" here Senator Standiford's 
 [78]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 face assumed a peculiar expression of solemnity 
 which made him look like a deacon handing around 
 the church plate "I lay to the fact that I never 
 could make a speech in my life, and I found it out 
 at an early stage in my career. I'm a Presbyterian, 
 as you know, but in my town I'm classed as a here- 
 tic and an iconoclast, because when they want to 
 call a new preacher and to have him preach a speci- 
 men sermon I always tell the elders, 'Why do you 
 want to judge the fellow by the way he talks? It's 
 the poorest test in the world to apply to a man. 
 Find out what he can do.' But they won't listen to 
 me, of course, and the Fourth Presbyterian Church 
 is perennially filled by a human wind-bag, who 
 snorts and puffs and blows dust about until the 
 congregation get tired of him and try another wind- 
 bag. In Congress wind-bags don't last." 
 
 "All the same, I wish from the bottom of my 
 heart that I had had Crane's chance yesterday and 
 had used it as well," replied Thorndyke. 
 
 "If you had you would have given our junior 
 Senator a bad quarter of an hour," replied Senator 
 Standiford, gravely. 
 
 Now, in common with all true Senatorial bosses, 
 [79]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Standiford had seen to it that his junior Senator 
 was a man of straw, put in the place in order that 
 the boss might have two votes in the Senate. Never 
 had the junior Senator yet voted or acted in oppo- 
 sition to his master; but had Thorndyke been the 
 junior it would have been another story, and both 
 men knew it. This caused Thorndyke to remark, 
 coolly : 
 
 "He would have no reason to disturb himself 
 the ass ! You have been kind enough to give me to 
 understand that I am ineligible for promotion, 
 not being made of putty, as our junior Senator 
 is." 
 
 "Now, now!" remonstrated Senator Standiford, 
 again assuming his air of a seventeenth-century 
 Puritan. "To hear you anybody would think that 
 our State organisation didn't want every first- 
 class man it can get ! We have the highest regard 
 for your services, and we do what we can to keep 
 you in your present place because we see your use- 
 fulness there." 
 
 Senator Standiford punctiliously used the eu- 
 phemism "we" just as he gravely consulted all the 
 pothouse politicians and heelers in "the organisa- 
 [80]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 tion," but it did not materially affect the fact that 
 he was the whole proposition in his own State. 
 
 Thorndyke looked full into the deep, calm eyes 
 of the rugged old man before him, and could not 
 forbear laughing; but there was not the glimmer 
 of a twinkle in them. Presently the old man said, 
 coolly : 
 
 "Suppose I should tell you that I may retire at 
 the end of my term, two years from now?" 
 
 "I should wish to believe anything you say, my 
 dear Senator, but I am afraid I couldn't believe 
 that." 
 
 "What a fellow you are ! But let me tell you 
 mind, this is a confidence between gentlemen my 
 retirement is not impossible. You know my daugh- 
 ter, my little Letty " 
 
 As Senator Standiford spoke the name his face 
 softened, and a passion of parental love shone in 
 his deep-set eyes. 
 
 "She is a very remarkable girl, Mr. Thorndyke, 
 very remarkable; and she loves her old father 
 better than he deserves. I have as good sons as 
 any man ever had but that daughter left me by 
 my dead wife is worth to me everything else on 
 [81]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 God's earth. The doctors have been frightening 
 her about me lately. They tell her I work too hard 
 for my time of life that I ought to take a rest, 
 and if I will do it I can add ten years to my life. 
 Now, you know, the State organisation will never 
 let me take a rest" Senator Standiford said this 
 quite seriously "and Letty as good as told me six 
 months ago that if I should be re-elected to the Sen- 
 ate" the Senator uttered this "if" in a tone of the 
 most modest deprecation "if I should be re-elected 
 for another term as she wishes me to be then she 
 wants me to resign. I don't mind admitting that 
 if any other human being had said this to me except 
 my daughter Letty, I should have reckoned myself 
 drunk or crazy to have listened to it. But my 
 daughter, as I mentioned to you, is a remarkable 
 girl. Besides, the child is not strong herself, and 
 if she gets to worrying about me well, you can 
 see, Mr. Thorndyke, how it is with me. The world 
 credits me with loving place and power above every- 
 thing on earth, but there is something dearer to me 
 than the office of President of the United States: 
 it is my daughter. And the sweetness and the ten- 
 derness of that child for her old father " 
 
 [82]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 
 Here Senator Standiford took out a large red 
 silk handkerchief and blew a blast like the blast of 
 Roncesvalles. 
 
 Being an accomplished judge of men, Senator 
 Standiford, while speaking, had watched Thorn- 
 dyke closely. Had he shown any undue elation over 
 the political prospects indicated by Senator Standi- 
 ford's possible retirement, Thorndyke's fortunes 
 would have been ruined. But by the lucky accident 
 of having a good heart he said the most judicious 
 thing possible. 
 
 "I don't see any indications of overwork in you, 
 Senator. At the same time I know you do the work 
 of ten men, and I also know the exercise of power is 
 so dear to you that, from the pound-master in your 
 own town up to the candidate for President, you 
 give everything your personal supervision. But as 
 for Miss Standiford's not being strong why, I 
 took her in to dinner less than a month ago, and re- 
 marked on her freshness and beauty. She looked 
 the picture of health and ate more dinner than I 
 did." 
 
 "Did she ?" asked the Senator, anxiously. "What 
 did she eat?" 
 
 [83]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 Thorndyke did not feel in the least like laughing 
 at Senator Standiford's inquiry, and answered, 
 promptly : 
 
 "Oh, everything. I remember chaffing her about 
 her good appetite." 
 
 "Thank God! The doctors say if she can only 
 eat and live out in the fresh air and play golf and 
 ride horseback she will be all right. But, Thorn- 
 dyke, I swear to you, I am as soft as milk about 
 that girl. If she goes out to golf I am unhappy 
 for fear she will take cold. If she rides I am in ter- 
 ror for fear some accident will happen to her. Ah, 
 Thorndyke, a man is no fit guardian for a girl like 
 that the sweetest the most affectionate " 
 
 Here Senator Standiford again blew his nose vio- 
 lently. 
 
 "She has always been very sweet to me," an- 
 swered Thorndyke, "although I believe she thinks 
 me old enough to be her grandfather." 
 
 "She is a very remarkable girl, sir; that I say 
 without the least partiality," replied Senator 
 Standiford, earnestly. "She's a little wild, having 
 no mother, poor child but her heart, sir, is in the 
 right place. And the way she loves her old father 
 [84]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 
 is the most splendid, touching, exquisite thing ever 
 imagined !" 
 
 Thorndyke listened attentively, deeply interested 
 in the human side of a man who had seemed to him to 
 have a very small amount of the purely human in 
 him. The little story of Letty Standiford's health 
 and heart and nature did not strike him as puerile 
 there was nothing puerile about Silas Standiford, 
 and his love for this child of his old age was, in 
 truth, a Titanic passion, strong enough, as he said, 
 to make him forego the chief object of his existence : 
 power over other men. Thorndyke really liked and 
 pitied Letty Standiford, living her young life with- 
 out guidance, in a manner possible only in America 
 and not desirable anywhere for a young girl. He 
 had not suspected the delicacy of her constitution, 
 and after Senator Standiford ceased speaking said : 
 
 "I wish, Senator, you could persuade Miss Stand- 
 iford to be a little more prudent about her health. 
 The night I dined out with her, when it came time 
 to go home she was about to pick up her skirts and 
 run two blocks to your hotel, in her satin slippers, 
 with sleet coming down, and the streets like glass 
 this, for a lark. I took her by the arm and shoved 
 [85]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 her in a cab, got in myself, and took her home. I 
 thought she would box my ears before I got there, 
 but I carried my point." 
 
 "She told me about it she tells me everything; 
 and I thank you for taking care of the child. You 
 may imagine what I suffer on her account." 
 
 Senator Standiford rose then, and, resting both 
 hands on his old-fashioned gold-headed stick, he 
 looked full into Thorndyke's face, and said, slowly : 
 
 "I hope we understand each other, Mr. Thorn- 
 dyke. We think you a very strong man, and strong 
 men are liable to become dangerous. The State or- 
 ganisation wishes you to remain where you are. 
 But in the event that I should be re-elected and 
 should be forced to resign, I have no hesitation in 
 saying that unless something unforeseen happens 
 you would certainly have my personal good wishes 
 toward getting you the party nomination for Sena- 
 tor." 
 
 "I understand you perfectly, Senator," replied 
 Thorndyke, with equal coolness, "and though I ad- 
 mit I think it a shameful state of affairs that any 
 organisation or any man should have the power 
 to dispose of any man's political future, yet it is a 
 [86]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 fixed fact in our State and can't be helped for the 
 present. So far as your personal kindness to me 
 goes I have the deepest sense of it, and the chances 
 are, on the strength of what you have just said, that 
 I may one day be senator." 
 
 "And when you are you won't be as much down 
 on the State organisation as you are now," re- 
 marked Senator Standiford, beginning to climb the 
 marble steps. "You will probably be called a boss 
 yourself." 
 
 "No, I shall not," answered Thorndyke. "I 
 shouldn't have the heart to put men through the 
 mill as I have seen you and Senator Bicknell and a 
 few others do." 
 
 Senator Standiford professed to regard this as a 
 pleasantry, and so they entered the Capitol to- 
 gether. 
 
 The day was the regular one for the meeting of 
 the House Foreign Affairs Committee, and there 
 was a full attendance, every member being prompt 
 except the chairman. Ten minutes after the hour 
 struck, Crane entered. It was almost impossible for 
 a man to have had the personal triumph he had en- 
 joyed the day before, without showing some con- 
 [87]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 sciousness of it. Thorndyke had expected to see 
 Crane crowing like chanticleer. Instead, he was 
 remarkably quiet and subdued. He was greeted 
 with the chaff which senators and representatives 
 indulge in after the manner of collegians. Several 
 members addressed him as the "Wondrous Boy," 
 and others, displaying copies of the Indianapolis 
 editorial, presented their claims to him for cabinet 
 places and embassies. One member the Honour- 
 able Mark Antony Hudgins, a colleague of Crane's, 
 who posed as a greenhorn and was really a wit sol- 
 emnly engaged Thorndyke to write him a speech 
 to deliver at the first seasonable opportunity, but 
 warned him not to make it too much like the speech 
 of the "Wondrous Boy." Thorndyke laughed. He 
 had taken no part in the joking and chaffing. 
 Crane's face flushed. He did not like to be remind- 
 ed of Thorndyke's share in his success, but he was 
 too considerable a man to deny it. 
 
 The meeting was brief and devoted to routine 
 matters. The debate would begin directly after the 
 morning hour, and it was supposed it would go 
 along smoothly. There was, it is true, an able and 
 malevolent person from Massachusetts who would 
 [88]
 
 GOVERNMENT WITHOUT CONSENT 
 be likely to stick a knife between the joints of 
 Crane's armour, and two or three Southern mem- 
 bers who would be certain to discover an infringe- 
 ment of the Constitution of the United States in 
 something or other but these were only the ex- 
 pected rough spots in an otherwise smooth road. 
 
 At two o'clock the debate began. Again were 
 the galleries packed, though not to the same degree 
 as on the day before. When Crane rose to defend 
 the report he was loudly applauded. He was inter- 
 rupted once or twice by the able and malevolent 
 representative from Massachusetts, who never dis- 
 appointed expectations in that particular. And 
 there were some sly allusions to the Indianapolis 
 newspaper and the "Wondrous Boy." This both- 
 ered Crane obviously, who had a reasonable and 
 wholesome fear of ridicule. He had his share of a 
 certain crude humour God never makes an Amer- 
 ican without putting humour of some sort into him 
 but Crane's was not the rapid-fire, give-and-take 
 humour which counts in debate. He was always 
 afraid of committing some breach of taste and de- 
 corum when he wished to raise a laugh. He remem- 
 bered certain men whose remarks had caused a tern- 
 [89]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 pest of mirth in the House, but those same remarks 
 seen in cold type next day had seriously damaged 
 their authors. It was here that Thorndyke came 
 to Crane's rescue. While he sat glowering and 
 fuming and hesitating, Thorndyke stood in the 
 breach with a good story, full of wit and pith. The 
 House immediately went into convulsions of laugh- 
 ter. The able and malevolent member from Massa- 
 chusetts in vain tried to bring the gentlemen back 
 to a state of seriousness and disgust with affairs 
 generally. But the turn injected by Thorndyke 
 into the discussion put everybody into a good hu- 
 mour, the debate went swimmingly, as it was fore- 
 seen, and when the adjournment came it was plain 
 that the report would be adopted substantially as 
 it came from the committee. 
 
 Thorndyke watched the big clock over the main 
 doorway, and precisely at four left the chamber, 
 and likewise left Crane to his fate, which, however, 
 proved to be easy enough. Thorndyke had other 
 business on hand then. 
 
 [90]
 
 Chapter Five 
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR WHICH WAS RUDELY INTER- 
 RUPTED 
 
 When Thorndyke got out of doors the bright 
 morning had changed into a cold, determined down- 
 pour of rain. The gray mists hung over the city 
 at the foot of the hill, and the summit of the monu- 
 ment was obscured by sullen driving clouds. 
 Thorndyke's spirits rose as he surveyed the gloomy 
 prospect. It was not much of an afternoon for vis- 
 iting he should find Constance alone. 
 
 He went to his rooms, dressed, and before five 
 was at Constance Maitland's door. The afternoon 
 had grown worse. A sad northeast wind had been 
 added to the rain ; the lilac-bushes in the little lawn 
 at the side of the house drooped forlornly, and the 
 dejected syringas looked like young ladies caught 
 out in the rain in their ball-gowns. 
 
 The rain, the cold, and the wind outside was the 
 best possible foil for the fire-lighted and flower- 
 [91]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 scented drawing-room, into which the young negro 
 butler ushered Thorndyke. The walls were of the 
 delicate pale green of the sea, the rug on the pol- 
 ished floor was of the green of the moss. A wood- 
 fire danced and sang in a white-tiled fireplace, and 
 laughed at its reflection in the quaint mirrors about 
 the room, and glowed upon family portraits and 
 miniatures on the walls. There were many old-fash- 
 ioned chairs and tables, and a deep, deep sofa drawn 
 up to the fire. By its side was a tea-table gleaming 
 with antique silver. 
 
 Like most men, Thorndyke was highly suscepti- 
 ble to the environment of women without being in 
 the least able to analyse the feeling. It takes a 
 woman to dissect an emotion thoroughly. He be- 
 came at once conscious that this quaint, pretty, 
 sparkling drawing-room was a home, and that what 
 was in it had no connection whatever with shops 
 for antiques and art-sale catalogues. He had 
 often noticed with dislike the spurious antiquity 
 of many modern drawing-rooms, which are really 
 museums, and represent the desire of the new for 
 the old. But Constance Maitland had inherited the 
 furnishings which made her drawing-room beauti- 
 [92]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 ful and distinctive, and in process of use, especially 
 by one family, chairs and tables and tea-kettles ac- 
 quire a semi-humanity which creates that subtle and 
 enduring thing c"alled atmosphere. The portraits 
 on the walls gave an inhabited look to the room it 
 was never without company. 
 
 While Thorndyke was considering the curious 
 fact that all the mere money in the world could not 
 create a drawing-room like Constance Maitland's, 
 she herself entered the room with her slow, graceful 
 step. She wore a gown of a delicate gray colour, 
 which trailed upon the floor, and at her breast was 
 a knot of pale yellow cowslips. A bowl of the same 
 old-fashioned flowers was on the tea-table. 
 
 Thorndyke had never been able to contemplate 
 without agitation a meeting with Constance Mait- 
 land. But, as on the two previous occasions, so soon 
 as he came face to face with her, nothing seemed 
 easier, sweeter, more natural than that they should 
 meet. He placed a chair for her, and they ex- 
 changed smilingly the commonplaces of meeting 
 and greeting. At once Thorndyke felt that deli- 
 cious sense of comfort, security, and well-being 
 which some women can impart so exquisitely in 
 [93]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 their own homes. The quiet, fire-lighted room 
 seemed a paradise of peace and rest, which was ac- 
 centuated by the northeast storm without. The 
 surety that he would have the room, the fire, the 
 sweet company of Constance Maitland to himself 
 made Thorndyke feel almost as if he had a place 
 there. And Constance, by not taking too much no- 
 tice of him, increased the dear illusion. She got into 
 a spirited discussion with the negro butler, who re- 
 joiced in the good old-time name of Scipio, to 
 which Constance had added Africanus. Scipio had 
 his notions of how tea should be made, which were 
 at variance with his mistress's. After the manner 
 of his race, he proceeded to argue the point. Con- 
 stance entered with spirit into the controversy, and 
 only settled it by informing Scipio that where tea 
 was concerned he was, and always would be, an 
 idiot, at which Scipio grinned in a superior man- 
 ner. Thorndyke thought Scipio in the right, and 
 said so, as he drank a very good cup of tea brewed 
 by Constance. 
 
 "But I can never let Scipio believe for a moment 
 that I am in the wrong about anything," replied 
 Constance, with pensive determination. "You dear, 
 [94]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 good Northern people never can be made to under- 
 stand that with a negro everything depends on 
 the personal equation. He is not, and never can be 
 made, a human machine. He is a personality, and 
 his usefulness depends entirely on the recognition 
 of that personality." 
 
 "The commonly accepted idea of a servant is a 
 human machine," said Thorndyke, willing to cham- 
 pion Scipio's cause for the purpose of having Con- 
 stance Maitland's soft eyes glow and sweet voice 
 quicken in discussion. In the old days at Como 
 they had many hot wrangles over the North and the 
 South. 
 
 "Ah, if you had been served by human machines 
 for eighteen years, as I was, you would understand 
 how I longed to see an honest, laughing black face 
 once more. My negro servants do much tow- 
 ard making this house a home for me. You would 
 laugh at the way we get on together. When I am 
 in an ill humour they must bear the brunt of it. 
 I am a terrible scold when I am cross. But when the 
 servants are lazy and neglectful, then I bear with 
 them like an angel, and so we hit it off comfortably 
 together. Even Scipio Africanus, who is altogeth- 
 [95]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 er idle and irresponsible, becomes a hero when I am 
 ill and a gentleman when I am angry." 
 
 "Another cup of tea, please." 
 
 "Already? You will become a tea-drinker like 
 Doctor Johnson. However, my tea is so good that 
 you are excused." 
 
 The conversation went on fitfully, but to Thorn- 
 dyke delightfully. Like all women who truly 
 know the world, Constance had a charming and 
 real simplicity about her. She made no effort 
 to entertain him. She talked to him and he re- 
 plied or was silent according to his mood. 
 Every moment increased Thorndyke's sense of ex- 
 quisite comfort and quiet enjoyment. He had 
 reached the inevitable stage of life when amuse- 
 ments are no longer warranted to amuse ; when only 
 a few things remained, such as certain books and 
 certain conversations, which were a surety of pleas- 
 ure. Nor had it been much in his way to enjoy 
 those simple pleasures which are found only in 
 quiet and seclusion. It was as much a feeling of 
 gratitude as of enjoyment which made him say to 
 Constance : 
 
 "I did not think there remained for me such an 
 [96]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 hour of rest and refreshment as you have given 
 me." 
 
 Constance turned toward him, her eyes pensive 
 but not sad. There was something soothing in her 
 very presence. She had known and suffered much, 
 and had led a life far from quiet, and now, in her 
 maturity, she had reached, it seemed to her, a haven 
 of peace and quiet. She had acquired a knowledge 
 worth almost as much as youth itself the knowl- 
 edge that never again could she suffer as she had 
 once suffered. And the meeting with Thorndyke 
 had confirmed her in a belief which had been her 
 chief solace under the sorrows of her life of exile 
 and disappointment. She knew he loved her well. 
 For some years of her youth she had been haunted 
 by the thought, cruel to her pride, that Thorndyke, 
 after all, had been only playing at love. But as 
 time went on, and she knew herself and others bet- 
 ter, she had become convinced that Thorndyke had 
 truly loved her, and his leaving her was only what 
 any other man of honour, burdened with poverty, 
 would have done. And he had remembered and suf- 
 fered, too. As this thought came into her mind 
 Thorndyke. made some little remark that referred 
 [97]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 vaguely to their past, something about a song from 
 one of the Italian operas, those simple love-stories 
 told in lyrics which she had often sung in the old 
 days. A blush swept over Constance's cheek, and 
 after a little pause of silence and hesitation she 
 went to the piano and sang the quaint old song. 
 She had a pleasing, although not a brilliant, voice, 
 and her singing was full of sweetness and feeling, 
 the only kind of singing which the normal man 
 really understands. 
 
 When she returned to her chair Thorndyke 
 leaned toward her with eyes which told her he loved 
 her, although he did not utter a word. Constance, 
 in turn, resting her rounded chin on her hand, 
 leaned toward him with a heavenly smile upon her 
 face the smile a woman only bestows on the man 
 she loves. Even if he could never speak his love she 
 was conscious of it, and that was enough for her 
 woman's heart. Under the spell of her eyes and 
 smile Thorndyke felt himself losing his head how 
 could he refrain from touching the soft white hand 
 which hung so temptingly near him ! 
 
 "Mr. Crane," announced Scipio Africanus, and 
 Julian Crane walked in. 
 
 [98]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 Every man receives a shock when he finds he has 
 interrupted a tete-a-tete, and Crane's shock was 
 augmented by finding that Thorndyke was the vic- 
 tim in the present case. Thorndyke had not said a 
 word about going to see Miss Maitland, and Crane 
 had meant to do a magnanimous thing by taking 
 him there ! And while outside the door he had heard 
 Constance singing to the piano. She had never 
 mentioned to him that she had such an accomplish- 
 ment. 
 
 Thorndyke behaved as men usually do under the 
 circumstances. He spoke to Crane curtly, assumed 
 an injured air, and took his leave promptly, as 
 much as to say : 
 
 "It is impossible for me to stand this man a mo- 
 ment." 
 
 Constance, womanlike, showed perfect compos- 
 ure and politeness, bade Thorndyke good-bye with 
 a smile, and then, by an effort, brought herself to 
 the contemplation of Julian Crane. She saw then 
 that he was very pale, and the hand which he rested 
 on the back of a chair was trembling. The first 
 idea which occurred to her was that Crane had heard 
 bad news; but she could not understand why he 
 [99]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 should come to her under the circumstances. Per- 
 haps it was only nervousness, the relaxation after 
 great tension. With this in mind, she said pleas- 
 antly, as they seated themselves : 
 
 "So you waked this morning and found yourself 
 famous." 
 
 "My speech appears to have been well received 
 by the country," replied Crane, in a strained 
 voice, after a pause. 
 
 "It is a pity Mrs. Crane was not present to enjoy 
 your triumph," she said. 
 
 "Mrs. Crane does not care for politics," replied 
 Crane, still in a strange voice. 
 
 "I cannot say that I am especially interested in 
 politics," replied Constance, "but I am interested 
 in contemporary history of all sorts." 
 
 "And interested in your friends, Miss Maitland, 
 when they are in public life." 
 
 "Extremely. I was at the House yesterday to 
 hear you speak, and read your speech over again 
 this morning in the Congressional Record." 
 
 "Which, no doubt, you received through Thorn- 
 dyke," Crane answered, pointedly, after a moment. 
 
 Constance felt an inclination, as she often did, 
 [100]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 to get up and leave the room when Crane was talk- 
 ing with her. He had no reserves or restraints, and 
 said just what was in his mind a dangerous and 
 alarming practice. She controlled herself, how- 
 ever, and looked closer at Crane. He was evidently 
 deeply agitated, and Constance forebore the rebuke 
 that she was ready to speak. Like a true woman, 
 to feel sorry for a man was to forgive him every- 
 thing. Suddenly Crane burst out: 
 
 "Have you heard the news? Senator Brand 
 our junior Senator was run over by a train at 
 Baltimore this morning, and died within an hour." 
 
 There is a way of announcing a death which 
 shows that the speaker is contemplating the dead 
 man's shoes with particular interest. Without 
 fully taking in what it meant to Crane and what 
 he wished to convey, Constance at once saw that in 
 Senator Brand's death lay some possible great 
 good for Crane. She remained silent a minute or 
 two, her mind involuntarily reconstructing the hor- 
 ror and pity of the dead man's taking off. 
 
 Crane rose and walked up and down the room, 
 his face working. 
 
 "I have committed a great, a stupendous folly," 
 [101]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 he said. "At the very outset of my real career I may 
 have ruined it. I couldn't describe to you what I 
 have suffered this day yet no one has suspected it. 
 I felt the necessity for sympathy, the necessity to 
 tell my story to some one, and I came to you. I 
 know I have no right to do it but it seems to me, 
 Constance, that ever since the day I first saw you, 
 you have had some strange power of sustaining and 
 comforting me." 
 
 As Crane spoke her name, Constance involun- 
 tarily rose and assumed an air of offended dignity. 
 But Crane's distress was so real, his offence so 
 unconscious, that her indignation could not hold 
 against him. 
 
 Without noticing her offended silence he came 
 and sat down heavily in the chair that Thorndyke 
 had just vacated. 
 
 "You know," he said, "in cases like this of Sena- 
 tor Brand's death, the Governor appoints a senator 
 until the Legislature meets and can elect, which will 
 not be until the first of next January. Just as I 
 had heard the news about poor Brand at my hotel 
 I ran into Sanders, our Governor. I didn't know 
 he was in Washington. Sanders is a brute al- 
 [102]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 ways thinking of himself first. He button-holed me, 
 took me into his bedroom, locked the door, and 
 closed the transom. There were three other men 
 present all of whom I would not wish to offend. 
 One of them has indorsed two unpaid notes for me. 
 Sanders told me he had been looking for me, and 
 with these other fellows practical politicians 
 every one of them had already formulated a plan 
 of campaign. The Governor would appoint me to 
 fill the vacancy until the Legislature met in Jan- 
 uary and elected a senator for the short term, pro- 
 vided I would give him a clear track then. In fur- 
 ther recompense, he agreed to support me for the 
 long term the election is only two years off. San- 
 ders has had the senatorial bee in his bonnet for a 
 long time, but the State organisation is not over- 
 kindly to him, and Senator Bicknell is a little bit 
 afraid of him, and naturally wouldn't encourage 
 his aspirations. And do you know, after an hour's 
 talk I allowed Sanders and those three fellows to 
 wheedle me into that arrangement and, of course, 
 I can't, in two years, supplant Senator Bicknell. 
 Sanders is a long-headed rascal, and he knew very 
 well that I was under money obligations to those 
 [103]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 men, and among them, aided and abetted by my 
 own folly, I was buncoed yes, regularly bun- 
 coed." 
 
 The rage and shame that possessed him seemed 
 to overpower Crane for a moment, and he covered 
 his face with his hands. Then he dashed them down 
 and continued: 
 
 "Of course I could have made a good showing in 
 the race in January, and after my success of yes- 
 terday I believe I could have won. Senator Bick- 
 nell is not by any means the czar in the State which 
 he would wish people to believe. But because San- 
 ders dangled before my eyes the bauble of the ap- 
 pointment to the Senate a present mess of pot- 
 tage and because I owed money I could not pay, 
 I gave up the finest prospect of success any man of 
 my age has had for forty years !" 
 
 Crane struck the arm of his chair with his 
 clinched fist. His furious and sombre eyes showed 
 the agony of his disappointment. 
 
 "As soon as it was done I knew my folly, and 
 
 since then I have been almost like a madman. I 
 
 went to my room to recover myself before going 
 
 to the Capitol, and managed not to betray myself 
 
 [104]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 while I was there. But I couldn't stand the strain 
 until adjournment ; I had to come to you.'* 
 
 Constance sat looking at him; pity, annoyance, 
 and a kind of disgust struggled within her. This, 
 then, was politics. Accomplished woman of the 
 world that she was, this natural and untutored man 
 thoroughly disconcerted her. If only she had not 
 felt such pity for him ! And while she was contem- 
 plating the spectacle of these elemental passions of 
 hatred, disappointment, revenge, and self-seeking, 
 Crane's eyes, fixed on her, lost some of their fury, 
 and became more melancholy than angry, and he 
 continued, as if thinking aloud : 
 
 "Suddenly I felt the desire to see you. You 
 would know how insane was my folly, but you would 
 not despise me for it. That's the greatest power in 
 the world a woman has over a man : when he can show 
 her all his heart, and she will pity him without scorn 
 or contempt. Ah, if Fate had given me a wife like 
 you, I could have reached the heights of greatness !" 
 
 At those words Constance Maitland moved a lit- 
 tle closer to him so that she could bring him under 
 the full effect of her large, clear gaze. 
 
 "I think," she said, in a cool, soft voice, with a re- 
 [105]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 buke in it, but without contempt, "that you are for- 
 getting yourself strangely. I have often noticed 
 in you a want of reticence. You should begin 
 now to cultivate reticence. What you have just 
 said has in it something insulting to me as well as 
 to your wife a person you seem to have forgot- 
 ten. As for the political arrangement which you 
 regret so much, I can only say that it seems to me to 
 have been cold-blooded and unfeeling on both sides 
 to a remarkable degree. You have spoken plainly ; 
 I speak plainly." 
 
 Constance leaned back quietly in her chair to 
 watch the effect of what she had said. She felt then 
 a hundred years older than Crane, who was older 
 than she, and who knew both law and politics well, 
 but was a child in the science of knowing the world 
 and the people in it a science in which Constance 
 Maitland excelled. But even her rebuke had a fasci- 
 nation for him. No other woman had ever rebuked 
 him his wife least of all. 
 
 "Do you complain of me," he said, "for telling 
 
 you my weaknesses, my misfortunes? Don't you 
 
 see that what you have just told me is proof of all I 
 
 have said ? You see my faults, you tell me of them, 
 
 [106]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 you inspire me with a desire to correct them. No 
 other woman ever did so much for me. Is it forbid- 
 den to any one to utter a regret ?" 
 
 "Very often it is forbidden," replied Constance, 
 promptly. "Unavailing regrets are among the 
 most undignified things on earth. Is it possible 
 that you have lived past your fortieth birthday 
 without getting rid of that school-boy idea that our 
 environment makes us that a man is made by his 
 wife, or by any other human agent except himself? 
 So long as self-love is the master passion, so long 
 will we heed our own persuasions more than any 
 one else's." 
 
 "I hardly think you understand how things are 
 with me," replied Crane, his eyes again growing 
 sombre. "Yesterday was an epoch-making day 
 with me. To-day, the first of the new epoch, I 
 make a hideous mistake. It unmans me ; it un- 
 nerves me. Not often do two such catastrophes be- 
 fall a man together. I follow an impulse and come 
 to you and you are angry with me. Bah ! How nar- 
 row and conventional are women, after all ! Never- 
 theless," he kept on, rising to his feet and suddenly 
 throwing aside his dejection, "no man ever yet rose 
 [107]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 to greatness without making vast mistakes and re- 
 trieving them. This moment the way of retrieving 
 my mistake has come to me. I will go to Sanders 
 no, I will write and keep a certified copy of the let- 
 ter saying that I shall withdraw from my engage- 
 ments with him. I will refuse to accept the ap- 
 pointment as Senator and will contest the election 
 with him before the Legislature. But but if 
 only the man who indorsed my notes hadn't been in 
 the combine !" 
 
 As suddenly as he had rallied, Crane again sank 
 into dejection. 
 
 "You don't know what it is to want money des- 
 perately desperately, I say," he added. 
 
 "N-no," replied Constance, slowly. "I think I 
 know the want of everything else almost which is 
 necessary to happiness except only the want of 
 money." 
 
 "Then you have escaped hell itself, Miss Mait- 
 land. This American Government, which you think 
 so impeccable, is the most niggardly on the face of 
 the globe. With untold wealth, it pays the men 
 who conduct its affairs a miserable pittance a bare 
 living. How can a man give his whole mind to 
 [108]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 great governmental and economic problems when 
 nine out of ten public men owe more than they can 
 pay? I owe more than I can pay, and I owe, be- 
 sides, a host of obligations of all sorts which the 
 borrower of money, especially if he is a public man, 
 cannot escape." 
 
 Constance, at this, felt more real pity and sym- 
 pathy for Crane than she had yet felt. Women be- 
 ing in the main intensely practical, and in their 
 own singular way more material than men, the 
 want of money always appeals to them. And Con- 
 stance had an income much greater than her wants 
 that is, unless she happened to want an American 
 husband. Every other luxury was within her reach. 
 This idea occurred to her grotesquely enough at 
 the moment. She said, after a moment's pause : 
 
 "It seems to me that to make your disentangle- 
 ment complete, you should, if possible, pay your 
 debt to the man that you say helped to wheedle you 
 into the arrangement. You might easily borrow the 
 money; it is probably not a large sum. If if 
 perhaps Mr. Thorndyke might arrange " 
 
 Crane instantly divined the generous thought in 
 Constance Maitland's heart. 
 [109]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "No," he said. "I know what you would do 
 through Thorndyke. But it is not to be thought 
 of. With all my shortcomings, I can't think of 
 borrowing money from a woman. But your sug- 
 gestion is admirable the payment of the money is 
 necessary. It is not much." 
 
 Crane named something under a thousand dol- 
 lars and then fell silent. 
 
 "Mr. Crane," said Constance, after a while, 
 "what advice do you think your wife would give 
 you as to that money?" 
 
 Crane smiled a little. 
 
 "Annette is a regular Spartan when it comes to 
 practical matters. She would advise me to give up 
 my rooms at the expensive hotel and go into the 
 country near by for the balance of the session." 
 
 "Could any advice be more judicious?" asked 
 Constance. "And is it any disadvantage to a pub- 
 lic man, who is known to be a poor man, to live 
 plainly?" 
 
 "By Heaven !" exclaimed Crane. "You are right ! 
 It would show those fellows in the Legislature next 
 January that I have clean hands. What an ad- 
 mirable suggestion! And I can save at least 
 [110]
 
 A RAPTUROUS HOUR 
 
 enough to pay half what I owe on that note before 
 the end of the session !" 
 
 "You forget," said Constance, gently, "that the 
 suggestion really is your wife's. Perhaps, if you 
 had listened to her oftener, you would have found 
 life easier. You are, perhaps, like many another 
 man he marries a pretty little thing, and she re- 
 mains to him a pretty little thing. Meanwhile, she 
 may have developed a capacity for affairs far su- 
 perior to his." 
 
 Crane did not like the hint that perhaps An- 
 nette's head for affairs was better than his, but he 
 had heard several home-truths that afternoon. 
 
 He rose to go, and his changed aspect confirmed 
 his words when he said earnestly to Constance : 
 
 "I came in here with shame and despair in my 
 heart. I go away enlightened and encouraged and 
 comforted beyond words. You will at least let me 
 say that it is to you I owe it." 
 
 "Good-bye," replied Constance, cheerfully. 
 
 The feeling that another woman's husband or 
 lover can be enlightened, encouraged, and comfort- 
 ed by her is a very awkward circumstance to a 
 woman of sense. 
 
 [Ill]
 
 Chapter Six 
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT FOR THE SOULS OF 
 MEN 
 
 Crane went back to his rooms, wrote his letter to 
 Governor Sanders, and awaited developments. 
 
 Nothing happened for more than a week con- 
 cerning the senatorship. Meanwhile, he gave up 
 his expensive rooms, and with the assistance of a 
 note-broker managed to borrow enough money from 
 Peter to pay Paul and to relieve himself from pres- 
 ent obligations to one of the gentlemen who had so 
 urgently invited him to commit political hari-kari. 
 He secured quiet quarters in one of the suburbs of 
 Washington and found that he was quite as com- 
 fortable as he had been at his high-priced ho- 
 tel, at about one-fourth the cost. 
 
 The May days that followed were cool and 
 bright and soft, as May days in Washington often 
 are. The called session of Congress and the neces- 
 sary presence of so many officials and diplomats 
 [112]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 made the gay town gayer than usual. The whole 
 country was in a mood of exhilaration and self- 
 gratulation, which was vividly reflected at Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 There could be no doubt that Crane's success was 
 real and substantial, and that he was already a per- 
 son to be reckoned with. 
 
 Crane hugged himself with satisfaction when he 
 reflected on his escape from being interned in the 
 Senate, forced to remain quiescent during the time 
 that he should have been most active, and finally en- 
 ter the senatorial contest, two years ahead, with a 
 reputation which would probably have dwindled as 
 rapidly as it had developed. Instead of that he was 
 in the centre of movement and interest, and even 
 if he could not make a serious effort before the Leg- 
 islature in January, he was in a good strategic po- 
 sition for the senatorial election two years in ad- 
 vance and a great deal may happen in two years. 
 
 The Secretary of State, however, was disap- 
 pointed in Crane. He proved to be quite as intract- 
 able as Thorndyke had been, and with less excuse 
 for Thorndyke had never been asked to little din- 
 ners at the Secretary's house. The Secretary's wid- 
 [113]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 owed daughter, Mrs. Hill-Smith, the beautiful, 
 well-gowned, soft-voiced granddaughter of Cap'n 
 Josh Slater, of Ohio River fame, murmured once 
 or twice when Crane was under discussion that he 
 was "so very Western," and assumed a rather apol- 
 ogetic tone for having been seen at the play with 
 him. The Secretary himself, despairing of making 
 the chairman of the House Committee on Foreign 
 Affairs a handy tool for the State Department, 
 returned to his legitimate business. This business 
 consisted of labouring and slaving, in conjunction 
 with foreign chancelleries, to make elaborate 
 treaties, which the House and Senate treated as col- 
 lege football teams treat the pigskin on hard-fought 
 fields. The Secretary felt peculiarly aggrieved over 
 the Brazilian affair, in which the State Depart- 
 ment made a ridiculously small figure, in spite of in- 
 numerable letters, memoranda, protocols, treaties, 
 and what not. When the time came for action 
 the Congress had quietly taken the whole matter in 
 charge, and had not even censured the Secretary if 
 it could not praise him. Could he have been at- 
 tacked and denounced, as Mr. Balfour and M. 
 Combes and Chancellor von Buelow, and the Prime 
 [114]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 Ministers of Europe were, it would have been a 
 consolation. But even this was cruelly denied him. 
 He had gone through all the strenuous forms of di- 
 plomacy which meant something a hundred years 
 ago, when there was neither cable nor telegraph, 
 and when diplomats were not merely clerks and au- 
 ditors of their respective foreign offices. The Sec- 
 retary had practised all the diplomatic expedients 
 he knew. When he had not made up his mind what 
 to say to an ambassador, he had gone to bed with 
 lumbago. When he wished to impress one of the 
 great Powers of Europe with the notion that it had 
 in him a Bismarck to deal with, he had lighted a 
 cigar in the presence of five full-fledged ambassa- 
 dors. Remembering how eagerly the world always 
 waited for the speech of the Prime Minister of Eng- 
 land at the annual Lord Mayor's banquet, the Sec- 
 retary had spent a whole month composing and re- 
 vising his remarks at a great banquet in New York 
 on Decoration Day, and the reporters had got his 
 speech all wrong, and a disrespectful New York 
 newspaper had made game of his trousers, had 
 compared them to Uncle Josh Whitcomb's in "The 
 Old Homestead," and had asked pertinently or 
 [115]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 impertinently where the Secretary had hired 
 them. In Congress he fared little better. The Sen- 
 ate had taken some small notice of him. In the 
 House he had been practically ignored, except once 
 when a member alluded to having "an interview 
 with the Secretary of State." A member of his own 
 party, the same Honourable Mark Antony Hud- 
 gins, of Texas, who had guyed Crane, had sternly 
 rebuked his colleague for his phraseology, and de- 
 clared that what he should have said was "an au- 
 dience with the Prime Minister" and the House 
 laughed at the unseemly joke. The Secretary had 
 in secret a low opinion of the collective wisdom of 
 Congress, and in this he was at one with the whole 
 diplomatic body in Washington. 
 
 Crane, like everybody else, had really forgotten 
 the Secretary in the press of affairs. He was 
 amazed at not receiving an answer to his letter to 
 Governor Sanders, and so told Thorndyke one 
 night a few days after their meeting at Constance 
 Maitland's house. Crane had a great esteem for 
 Thorndyke's sincerity, which was justified, and 
 Thorndyke, in his heart, was forced to admire 
 Crane's force and to expect great things of him. 
 [116]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 He did not entertain any doubt of Crane's loy- 
 alty, but he watched curiously the development 
 of the character of a man exposed to Crane's pecul- 
 iar temptations. That Crane had both good and 
 bad qualities in great vigour he saw easily enough, 
 but he could not tell which were the fundamentals. 
 Crane was desperately poor, was foolishly proud, 
 was rash and vainglorious, and was destined to 
 shine brilliantly in the world of politics. What was 
 to become of such a man ? What usually became of 
 such men ? It was with these thoughts that Thorn- 
 dyke, at his lodgings, on a warm May night, lis- 
 tened to Crane's account of what had happened to 
 him in the last few days. 
 
 He assured Crane that his conduct regarding 
 Governor Sanders and the senatorship seemed emi- 
 nently sensible, after deducting the initial folly of 
 it. And his making his first serious attempt to save 
 money at the very time when it might be expected 
 he would become extravagant inclined Thorndyke 
 to the belief that Crane was, after all, fundamen- 
 tally honest. 
 
 Crane at that very moment suffered from a feel- 
 ing of conscious guilt. He had begun to practise 
 [117]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 more than the one virtue of economy. He was prac- 
 tising several others, but all with a view to his own 
 advantage. One of them was that his wife should 
 come on and visit him during the remainder of the 
 session. She had not been in Washington for five 
 years not since that first unlucky venture in the 
 Eleventh Street boarding-house. 
 
 He mentioned to Thorndyke his intention to send 
 for his wife, and had the grace to say that it was be- 
 cause he was lonely without -her and in saying so 
 he was conscious of uttering a colossal lie. But be- 
 ing inexpert as a liar he did badly, and felt ashamed 
 of doing badly even in lying. 
 
 Thorndyke, on whom Annette Crane's simple 
 and natural charm had made a strong impression, 
 was pleased at the thought that Crane would pay 
 her the compliment of having her with him and 
 pleased at the thought of seeing her again. 
 
 "I shall be going West next week," he said, "and 
 if Mrs. Crane is ready to come to Washing- 
 ton I shall be proud to escort her back." 
 
 "Thank you," answered Crane, "it would be a 
 kindness to me as well as to Mrs. Crane. She is not 
 an experienced traveller." 
 
 [118]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 
 Both Thorndyke and Crane when they were to- 
 gether desired to keep Constance Maitland out of 
 their conversation, but by one of those contradic- 
 tory and involuntary impulses which cannot be 
 accounted for, her name always came up between 
 them. This time it was by Crane's saying, after a 
 while : 
 
 "Have you seen Miss Maitland lately?" 
 
 "I dined there night before last," answered 
 Thorndyke. 
 
 Crane knew that Constance Maitland's favourite 
 form of entertaining was at little dinners, which 
 were perfection in the way of guests and service. 
 He had never been asked to one of them, and 
 thought gloomily that after Constance's very plain 
 speaking to him at their last interview his chance of 
 being invited was thin to attenuation. 
 
 "Was that the night that fellow Hudgins from 
 Texas dined there?" asked Crane, who had not 
 taken Constance's sound advice to cultivate reti- 
 cence. 
 
 "Yes, and I never saw a better dinner-man than 
 Hudgins, nor was ever at a more agreeable dinner." 
 
 "Bosh! Hudgins?" 
 
 [119]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 "Yes, Hudgins. The fellow has a quiet manner, 
 a soft voice, and the most delightful and archaic 
 reverence for 'the ladies,' as he calls them. It is 
 like what history tells us of General Sam Houston. 
 Hudgins was a screaming success at the dinner." 
 
 Seeing that the account of Hudgins's triumph 
 gave Crane acute discomfort, Thorndyke, lighting 
 a fresh cigar, kept on remorselessly : 
 
 "Miss Maitland wanted to ask some really rep- 
 resentative man to meet Sir Mark le Poer, a very 
 agreeable and considerable Englishman, one of the 
 permanent under-secretaries in the British Foreign 
 Office it seems he is a great friend of hers. He 
 had been gorgeously entertained by all the retired 
 trades-people who are in the smart set here, but 
 complained that he hadn't met any Americans 
 they would ask all the diplomats to meet him, fel- 
 lows that bored him to death in Europe and still 
 more so here. It seems that Miss Maitland had 
 heard that the long, thin, soft-voiced Texan was 
 delightful at dinner so she asked me to bring him 
 to call, and the dinner invitation followed. Besides 
 Sir Mark and Hudgins and myself, there was Cath- 
 cart a navy man good old New England fam- 
 [120]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 ily, four generations in the navy, travelled man of 
 the world, and flower of civilisation. But Hudgins 
 was easily the star of the occasion. There were 
 three other women present besides Miss Maitland, 
 all of them charming women, who know the world 
 and command it; and the way they, as well as the 
 Englishman and the naval officer, fell in love with 
 Hudgins and his soft Texas accent, and his stupen- 
 dous Texas yarns, and his way of looking at things 
 well, it was a show." 
 
 "Oh, come, Thorndyke Hudgins !" 
 "Yes, Hudgins, I tell you. When the time came 
 for the ladies to leave the table none of them wanted 
 to go, and they said so. Then Hudgins rose and 
 said in that inimitable manner of his, which catches 
 the women every time, 'If Miss Maitland would 
 kindly permit it, I'd rather a million times go into 
 the parlour with her and the other ladies than stay 
 out here with these fellows. I can get the society 
 of men and a cigar any day, but it isn't often that 
 I can bask in the presence of ladies like these pres- 
 ent.' And the presumptuous dog actually walked 
 off and left us in the lurch and you can depend 
 upon it, the women liked him better than any of
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 "If women are won by compliments like that, any 
 man can win their favour," said Crane, crossly. 
 
 "My dear fellow, women know vastly more than 
 we do. It wasn't Hudgins's compliments in words 
 that won the women it was his giving up his cigar 
 and the extra glass of champagne and the society 
 of men that fetched 'em it was the sincerity of the 
 thing. When we went into the drawing-room Hud- 
 gins was sitting on the piano-stool telling them some 
 sentimental story about his mother down in Texas 
 when he started out in life, with nothing but the 
 clothes on his back and a six-shooter in his pocket. 
 The women were nearly in tears. As for the rest of 
 us, including Sir Mark le Poer, we simply weren't 
 in it with Hudgins. We stayed until nearly mid- 
 night; then the men adjourned to the club, where 
 Hudgins kept us until three o'clock in the morning 
 telling us more yarns about Texas. Sir Mark 
 would hardly let him out of sight, and Hudgins has 
 engaged to spend August with him in Scotland at 
 a splendid place he has near Inverness. That's the 
 way a man with great natural gifts of entertaining 
 and being entertained can get on, if he has a 
 chance."
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 
 Crane felt humiliated and disappointed. In all 
 honesty, he could not imagine why he, with his rec- 
 ognised talents, his extreme good looks, his fond- 
 ness for society, should have no such social triumphs 
 as that long, lean, lanky Texan. He had not 
 grasped the truth that society is a pure democracy, 
 and until a man has abandoned all pretensions to 
 superiority he will not be acceptable in it. 
 
 Just then, along the dusky street a carriage came 
 rolling. At Thorndyke's door it stopped, a foot- 
 man descended from the box and assisted Senator 
 Bicknell to alight. 
 
 "The Senator has come hunting you up," Thorn- 
 dyke remarked to Crane. "When a man is anxious 
 enough to see you to come after you, it is generally 
 possible to make your own terms with him." 
 
 Crane's backbone was considerably stiffened by 
 this remark of Thorndyke's, and then Senator Bick- 
 nell walked in the room and greeted Thorndyke and 
 Crane affably. He made an elaborate apology for 
 seeking Crane, but said frankly he wished to dis- 
 cuss some matters of State politics with him. 
 
 Thorndyke at once rose to leave the room, but 
 Crane, asking Senator Bicknell if he had any ob- 
 [123]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 jection to Thorn dyke's remaining and the Senator 
 feebly agreeing to it, Thorndyke sat down again 
 to enjoy the scrap. As it was not in his own party, 
 he was a perfectly disinterested listener. 
 
 "Mr. Crane," began Senator Bicknell, in a dulcet 
 voice, "I hardly think you realise what it means to 
 our State organisation to introduce discord into it 
 at this time." 
 
 It was less than fourteen months before a na- 
 tional convention and the rainbow of a Presidential 
 nomination had arisen upon Senator Bicknell's po- 
 litical horizon. This had happened more than once, 
 but the Senator had never been able, heretofore, to 
 catch the rainbow by the tail yet, hope springs 
 eternal in the human breast. 
 
 To this Crane replied, firmly: 
 
 "I desire, Senator, to do everything I can to 
 promote harmony in the State organisation. It is 
 Governor Sanders who is making trouble, and I 
 shall defend myself from him, and die in the last 
 ditch, if necessary." 
 
 Crane was by nature a gladiator, and the pros- 
 pect of a fight by no means discomposed him. 
 
 Senator Bicknell sighed. He had already on his 
 [124]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 hands nine bloody fights in various parts of the 
 State, and the prospect of a tenth fight, of a trian- 
 gular nature at that, with two such sluggers as 
 Crane and the Governor of the State, made the Sen- 
 ator's head ache. He looked sadly at Thorndyke 
 and yearned after a knowledge of the secret by 
 which his friend, Senator Standiford, could get 
 hold of a man like Thorndyke, and keep him forever 
 in a subordinate position, while he, Senator Bick- 
 nell, was always engaged in a tussle with his lieu- 
 tenants. 
 
 Crane improved the opportunity to explain fully 
 his position; and there could not be the slightest 
 doubt that he had narrowly escaped from a con- 
 spiracy meant to ruin him. 
 
 Senator Bicknell said little and was evidently im- 
 pressed by Crane's statement. Thorndyke was 
 mentally comparing his own boss with Crane's boss. 
 All the pleas in the world would not have availed 
 Crane had he been dealing with Standiford. He 
 would have been required to sacrifice himself with- 
 out a moment's hesitation and accept the disastrous 
 honour of the senatorial appointment or be quietly 
 put out of the way. Politics with Senator Standi- 
 [125]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ford was a warfare in which quarter was neither 
 asked nor given, and no time was permitted to suc- 
 cour the wounded or bury the dead. Yet Thorn- 
 dyke doubted if Senator Bicknell, or any man 
 then in public life, had ever known a tithe of the 
 tremendous parental passion which Senator Standi- 
 ford had for his daughter. So strange a thing is 
 human nature. 
 
 A discussion followed Crane's words which made 
 a very important fact clear: that Crane had sud- 
 denly become a factor in State politics. Crane's 
 colour deepened as Senator Bicknell made a last 
 effort with him for peace with Sanders, and when 
 it was met with a firm refusal to accept the appoint- 
 ment, Senator Bicknell dropped some words which 
 indicated plainly that if forced to choose sides he 
 might be with Crane. For a man who a month be- 
 fore had been obscure this was a vast though silent 
 triumph. 
 
 After an hour's talk Senator Bicknell got up and 
 departed. It was well on toward ten o'clock, and 
 Crane, too, rose to go. Thorndyke went out with 
 him and they walked together as far as the foot of 
 the hill at Connecticut Avenue. Then Thorndyke 
 [126]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 turned back, to indulge in a folly which had been 
 his nightly, since that first afternoon with Constance 
 Maitland. It was, to pass within sight of her house, 
 then to return sick at heart to his own rooms and 
 ask himself if he could be such a fool as to wish her 
 to give up that charming home for lodgings such 
 as he could afford. 
 
 Crane presently reached his quarters, a comfort- 
 able suburban house with many verandas, and not 
 unlike his own house at Circleville. On the table in 
 his room lay a parcel, evidently containing photo- 
 graphs. He opened it and took out a photograph 
 of his wife with her two children, Roger and Eliza- 
 beth, by her side. The children were handsome the 
 boy the sturdy, well-made replica of his father, the 
 little girl her mother in miniature; both of them 
 children of whom any father might be proud. As 
 for Annette, the sweetness, the soft, appealing 
 character of her beauty, was singularly brought out 
 in the photograph. Nor was there any suspicion 
 of weakness in the face, which most men would have 
 fallen in love with on the spot. 
 
 But Crane was dissatisfied. She was not a woman 
 even to be talked about. Crane would have liked a 
 [127]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 woman whose name would be in the newspapers 
 every day. True, Constance Maitland kept out of 
 them all she could, but she was too striking a per- 
 sonality not to attract the attention of the society 
 correspondents. If she had been the wife of a pub- 
 lic man, she would have been in print quite as often 
 as he was. 
 
 Still Crane was glad he had sent for his wife. 
 He had not realised until this crisis in his fate had 
 come upon him what a mistake he had made in not 
 having her with him sometimes. Not a man of his 
 acquaintance who owned a wife but had her occa- 
 sionally in Washington. He began to think with 
 terror of what his enemies might have to say con- 
 cerning this, and then, going to his table, wrote 
 Annette another letter more urgent than his first, 
 in his desire that she should come to Washington. 
 He mentioned the chance that Thorndyke, who had 
 never failed to show interest in her, had offered to 
 escort her East. He felt like a hero and a martyr 
 while writing this. But after he had posted his let- 
 ter, and he had gone back to the balcony of his room 
 and gazed out into the solemn night, he had a return 
 of that strange sense of guilt. He felt like a hypo- 
 [128]
 
 DEVILS AND ANGELS FIGHT 
 crite ; and, as he was not a hypocrite by nature, the 
 feeling was uncomfortable. He put his request to 
 Annette on the same ground he had alleged to 
 Thorndyke his wish to see her. And he ought to 
 wish to see her he did wish to see her ; but the still- 
 ness of the night and the presence of the stars is 
 disconcerting sometimes to one's conscience. The 
 stars were very bright and it was wonderfully clear, 
 although the moon was just rising. Tall apartment 
 houses blazing with light made centres of radiance 
 in the purple night. The Washington monolith 
 was like a pillar of cloud, and the dome of the Capi- 
 tol seemed suspended in mid-air. It was all very 
 beautiful, but Crane saw nothing of its beauty. He 
 saw only before him a struggle with stupendous 
 forces these he feared not but also a struggle 
 with himself ; and this he feared ! He went to bed 
 and slept uneasily. 
 
 [129]
 
 Chapter Seven 
 
 HOW VARIOUS PERSONS SPENT A MAY SUNDAY IN 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 Next morning Crane rose with the intention of 
 going to church a thing he had not done for 
 years. And in the practice of this virtue he com- 
 mitted an act of the greatest hypocrisy. He knew 
 the very hour when Hardeman, the correspondent 
 of his home paper, took his Sunday morning stroll 
 on Connecticut Avenue. Crane timed his own ap- 
 pearance so that he met Hardeman directly in front 
 of the Austrian Embassy. 
 
 In half a minute afterward Crane mentioned that 
 he was on his way to church. 
 
 As he spoke Hardeman took a newspaper out of 
 his pocket, and opening it, held it up before Crane. 
 On the first page, with the most violent display- 
 head, was the official announcement of his appoint- 
 ment by Governor Sanders to the unexpired time 
 of the late Senator Brand's term. 
 [130]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 Crane turned pale. He was ready for the fight, 
 but the fight had come unexpectedly soon. And 
 that it was to be to the knife, and knife to the hilt, 
 was now perfectly plain. 
 
 "Come with me," said he to Hardeman, "and I'll 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 They turned back to Dupont Circle, seated them- 
 selves on a bench left vacant by a coloured brother, 
 and Crane told the whole story to Hardeman to be 
 printed next day. 
 
 As he talked, his course of action, simple, above- 
 board, and effective, at once took shape in his mind. 
 He wrote out on a pocket-pad a letter to the Gov- 
 ernor, saying as the Governor had thought fit to 
 make the public aware of his action in the senator- 
 ship before communicating with Crane himself, 
 that he, Crane, should do likewise and make a pub- 
 lic declination of it. He then gave a brief state- 
 ment of what had passed, inserted a copy of his 
 first letter to the Governor, and reiterated his refu- 
 sal to accept the senatorship. Hardeman, a keen- 
 eyed man, was in the seventh heaven of delight. 
 The letter would, of course, be sent to the Associated 
 Press, but there was "a good story" for the home 
 [131]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 paper, and a specific mention that Representative 
 Crane was on his way to church when the news was 
 communicated to him. 
 
 Crane, still pale, rose and announced that he 
 should keep on to church a fact also certain to be 
 chronicled. Church was a very good place to think 
 out the problems which would come out of this ex- 
 traordinary and far-reaching fight. 
 
 He went on, sat through a long sermon of which 
 he heard not a word, listened to the musical gym- 
 nastics of a high-priced quartette, and gradually 
 became himself, or, rather, more than himself, for 
 the fight at hand brought out in him all the thews 
 and sinews of courage, foresight, and judgment. 
 At the very last, when the name of God was men- 
 tioned in the final prayer, Crane had one moment 
 of sincere piety. Otherwise his thoughts were very 
 far from pious, being absolutely those of self-seek- 
 ing and revenge. Like other men, he promised him- 
 self that when Mammon had granted him all he 
 wanted, then he would turn to God. 
 
 When he found himself on the street again it 
 was a little past twelve o'clock. He turned into 
 the side streets to escape the throng of people going 
 [132]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 home from church. As he walked under the arcade 
 of the sweet-smelling tulip-trees with the May sun- 
 shine filtering through, he felt the ever-present 
 longing for sympathy. He would have liked to 
 go to Constance Maitland, but something in her 
 tone and manner at their last meeting made him 
 afraid. 
 
 On that former occasion he had scarcely been 
 master of himself, he did not know when he was 
 offending her ; but now he was far more composed. 
 Yet he dared not go. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through his 
 mind he looked up and saw Constance coming down 
 the street under the dappled shadows of the tulip- 
 trees. She was dressed simply in black, but Crane 
 had never been more struck by the distinction of her 
 appearance. With her was a fine-looking man 
 whom Crane surmised was Cathcart, the naval man. 
 Crane intended to pass the pair without stopping, 
 but when he raised his hat Constance halted him. 
 There was that ever-present feeling of pity for 
 him, and she was conscious of having said some hard 
 things to him in that last interview. 
 
 "I have glanced at the newspaper this morning," 
 [133]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 she said, "and I fancy your friend, Governor San- 
 ders, has treated you rather shabbily." 
 
 "Very shabbily," replied Crane, smiling ; "he has 
 driven me to the wall, but he will find me fighting 
 with my back to the wall." 
 
 Then Constance introduced her companion, and 
 it was Cathcart, after all. 
 
 "You can't expect much sympathy from me, Mr. 
 Crane," said Cathcart, smiling. "If it had not 
 been for you and your colleagues I might have been 
 in command of a ship at this moment, making a run 
 for the Caribbean Sea. You did us naval men a 
 bad turn by forcing those beggars to back down 
 without striking a blow." 
 
 Cathcart, like all naval men, was eager to play 
 the great game of war with the new implements 
 lately acquired, and did not welcome the exercise of 
 peaceful power which had forced an amicable ar- 
 rangement of a dangerous question. 
 
 Just then a handsome victoria drew up at the 
 sidewalk. In it sat Mrs. Hill-Smith, the widowed 
 daughter of the Secretary of State, and a beauti- 
 fully dressed, high-bred-looking girl, Eleanor 
 Baldwin. Baldwin, pere, whose cards read, "Mr. 
 [134]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 James Brentwood Baldwin," was the successful in- 
 ventor of a machine for stitching shoes, which had 
 brought him a great fortune early in life, and had 
 enabled him to establish himself in Washington and 
 adopt the role of a gentleman of leisure and of in- 
 herited fortune. His daughter looked like the 
 younger sister of Lady Clara Vere de Vere, as Mrs. 
 Hill-Smith, Cap'n Josh Slater's granddaughter, 
 looked like Lady Clara Vere de Vere herself. 
 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith beckoned to Constance, who ap- 
 proached, leaving the two men a little distance 
 away talking together under the overhanging 
 branches of the tulip-trees. 
 
 "My dear girl," said Mrs. Hill-Smith, who had 
 adopted the "dear girl" mode of addressing all 
 women like herself over thirty-five, "you must come 
 to the meeting of the Guild for Superannuated 
 Governesses, which is to be organised at my house 
 to-morrow. It is a branch of the one presided over 
 in London by the Princess Christian" and Mrs. 
 Hill-Smith ran over glibly a number of names of 
 ladies of the diplomatic corps in Washington who 
 were interested in it, winding up with, "And we 
 can't get on without you." 
 
 [135]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 Constance Maitland's full gaze had in it power 
 over women as well as over men, and Mrs. Hill- 
 Smith was not quite certain whether there was a 
 laugh or not in Constance's deep, dark eyes, as 
 turning them on her she replied : 
 
 "Very well but my first proposition will be rev- 
 olutionary, I warn you. I shall suggest that we 
 pay governesses enough to enable them to save 
 something, and thus we can get hold of the eco- 
 nomic problem by the head instead of by the tail." 
 
 Was she really in earnest? Mrs. Hill-Smith did 
 not know, but there was certainly a flippancy in 
 Constance's tone which shocked both Mrs. Hill- 
 Smith and Miss Baldwin. The serious, hard-work- 
 ing women by whom they were mothered and grand- 
 mothered had given them a deadly soberness and 
 energy in the pursuit of social schemes and pleas- 
 ures, just as their forbears had industriously and 
 seriously washed and baked and brewed. 
 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith was so annoyed by Constance's 
 manner of receiving her communication that if 
 Constance had not been very intimate at the British 
 Embassy Mrs. Hill-Smith would have made her dis- 
 pleasure felt. But she was constitutionally timid, 
 [136]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 like all social new-comers timid in admitting peo- 
 ple into her circle, and timid in turning them out 
 so she merely smiled brightly and said as they drove 
 off: 
 
 "You'll come like a dear, and be as revolutionary 
 as you please. Good-bye." 
 
 Constance, with her two men, lingered a minute, 
 and then Crone left her. He yearned for his ste- 
 nographer, and set out to seek him. Cathcart 
 walked home with Constance and left her at the 
 door. She was malicious enough to describe to him 
 some of Mrs. Hill-Smith's charities, at which Cath- 
 cart was in an ecstasy of amusement. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Hill-Smith went home with 
 Eleanor Baldwin to what they called breakfast, but 
 most Americans call luncheon. On the way the two 
 women had discussed Constance Maitland cautious- 
 ly each afraid to let on to the other what she really 
 thought because, after all, Constance was inti- 
 mate at the British Embassy. 
 
 Arrived at the Baldwin house an imposing 
 
 white stone mansion, with twenty-five bedrooms for 
 
 a family of four, of whom one was a boy at school, 
 
 a family which never had a visitor overnight 
 
 [137]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Eleanor led the way to the library, where her father 
 sat. 
 
 It was a great, high-ceiled, cool room, dark, in 
 spite of many windows and a glass door opening 
 on a balcony. At a library table near the glass door 
 sat Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin, alias Jim Bald- 
 win, and on the balcony outside, under the awning, 
 sat Mrs. James Baldwin, nee Hogan. 
 
 It was easy to see whence Eleanor Baldwin had 
 got her beauty. Jim Baldwin was handsome, Nora 
 Hogan Baldwin was handsomer. 
 
 From the days when Jim Baldwin had carried 
 home parcels of tea and buckets of butter in his 
 father-in-law's corner grocery, he had cherished an 
 honourable ambition to have a great big library 
 full of books. In the course of time, through the 
 operations of the shoe-stitching machine, he had 
 been able to gratify this ambition and taste. He had 
 all of those books which Charles Lamb declares "are 
 no books that is, all the books which no gentle- 
 man's library should be without." They were all 
 bound sumptuously in calf, and editions de luxe 
 were as common as flies in a baker's shop. The four 
 vast walls were lined with these treasures, and from 
 [138]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 them Baldwin derived an excess of pleasure. This 
 was not by reading them he had never read a book 
 in his life. Two Chicago newspapers, one from 
 New York, and the Washington morning and even- 
 ing papers satisfied his cravings for knowledge. 
 But he got from the outside of his books all the 
 pleasure that most people get from the inside. He 
 justly felt that to be seen surrounded by the glo- 
 rious company of the living who died a thousand 
 years ago, and the conspicuous dead who live to- 
 day, was to give him dignity and poise. Nobody 
 but himself knew that he never read. His days were 
 spent in his library he always spoke of himself as 
 "among my books" and shrewd, sharp, and keen 
 as he was and ever must remain, he had actually 
 succeeded in bamboozling himself into the notion 
 that he was a person of "literary tastes." 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin was one of the handsomest women 
 in Washington, and considered quite the proudest. 
 Her abundant grey hair, setting off a face of Gre- 
 cian beaut} r , gave her a look as of a queen in the 
 days of powder and patches. She had a rarity of 
 speech, a way of looking straight ahead of her, 
 which was regal. But this exterior of pride was 
 [139]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 really a result of the sincerest bashfulness and re- 
 serve. When Nora Hogan, the grocer's daughter, 
 had married Jim Baldwin, the contractor's son, 
 Fortune was already smiling on Jim. Then sudden- 
 ly she opened her apron and deluged him with gold. 
 Mrs. Baldwin was frightened and stunned. She was 
 afraid to say much for fear she might make mis- 
 takes so she gradually came to saying nothing at 
 all. She dreaded to look from side to side for fear 
 she might find some one laughing at her. So she 
 always looked straight ahead of her. By degrees 
 she acquired a degree of coldness, of stiffness, that 
 was perfectly well suited to the mother of Lady 
 Clara Vere de Vere. She was, of course, an unhap- 
 py woman, being a misjudged one. Her chief 
 solace lay in the practice of secret acts of charity 
 among the poorest of the poor, not letting her left 
 hand know what her right hand did. The promot- 
 ers of fashionable charities complained that Mrs. 
 Baldwin was so stately and so unsympathetic that 
 they could not get on with her in charitable work. 
 True it is, that at the meetings for fashionable char- 
 ities Mrs. Baldwin would be more silent, more 
 queenly than ever, but her heart would be crying 
 [140]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 aloud for the poor who are born to suffer and to 
 die, and to have helped them she would cheerfully 
 have given the very clothes off her back. But cow- 
 ardice kept her silent, as it kept her silent in the 
 presence of her servants, whom she feared inexpres- 
 sibly. 
 
 If Mrs. Baldwin was constitutionally timid, not 
 so Eleanor. All the courage of her father had 
 gone into his willowy, beautiful, well-groomed 
 daughter. Her first recollections were of the in- 
 land town where they lived secluded in their big 
 house, because nobody was good enough for them 
 to associate with after their fortune was made. 
 Then she was taken to Europe and returned a fin- 
 ished product, with no more notion of what the 
 word "American" meant than if she had been a 
 daughter of the Hapsburgs. As a compromise be- 
 tween Europe and America, Baldwin had pitched 
 upon Washington as a place of residence. His so- 
 cial status had been agreeably fixed by a lucky acci- 
 dent he had been asked to be pall-bearer for a 
 foreign Minister who died in Washington. Bald- 
 win rightly considered the dead diplomat worth, to 
 him, all the live ones going; for, having assisted 
 [141]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 in carrying the dead man from the Legation to the 
 hearse, Baldwin was, in consequence, elected to 
 the swell club, asked to the smart cotillon, and 
 made more headway in a month in the smart set 
 than he could have made otherwise in a year. He 
 repaid his debt to the dead diplomat by buying 
 some very ordinary pictures at the sale of the Min- 
 ister's effects, and paying the most extravagant 
 price ever heard of for them. 
 
 To Eleanor their social rise was nothing surpris- 
 ing. She expected it, having been bred like a 
 young princess, only with less of democracy than 
 real princesses are bred. When she entered the 
 room with Mrs. Hill-Smith, Baldwin rose and re- 
 sponded smilingly to Mrs. Hill-Smith's remark : 
 
 "Here you are, as usual, among your books." 
 
 "Yes as usual, among my books. I daresay 
 your father, the Secretary, spends a good deal of 
 time among his books." 
 
 "Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Hill-Smith, airily, "but 
 he has been dreadfully put out of late. Congress 
 has been so troublesome. I don't know exactly how, 
 but it has annoyed papa extremely." 
 
 "Very reprehensible," said Baldwin, earnestly,
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 who had the opinion of the average commercial 
 man that Congress is a machine to create prosper- 
 ity, or its reverse, and if prosperity is not created, 
 Congressmen are blamed fools. 
 
 "I hate Congressmen except a few from New 
 York," said Eleanor, drawing off her gloves dain- 
 tily. "There was one talking to Miss Maitland when 
 we stopped her on the street just now. The creat- 
 ure was introduced to me at one of those queer 
 Southern houses where they introduce people with- 
 out asking permission first, and ever since then the 
 man has tried to talk to me whenever we meet. But 
 I really couldn't stand him. This morning I cut 
 him dead. His name is Crane, and he's from some- 
 where in the West." 
 
 Now it happened that there was another Crane 
 in the House from the West, and Baldwin had a 
 business motive for wishing to cultivate this partic- 
 ular Crane and business was business still with 
 Jim Baldwin. So,. at Eleanor's words, he turned on 
 her. His air of scholar-and-gentleman, man-of- 
 the-world, and person-of-inherited-leisure suddenly 
 dropped from him ; he was once more Jim Baldwin, 
 the shoe-stitching-machine man. 
 [143]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "Then let me tell you," he said, authoritatively, 
 "you made a big mistake. That man Crane is on 
 the Committee on Manufactures, and we have been 
 arguing with him, and sending the most expensive 
 men we have to prove to him that we are entitled to 
 the same rebate on the platinum used in our ma- 
 chines as the Oshkosh Shoe-Stitching-Machine peo- 
 ple get and I have reason to know that Crane is 
 the man standing in the way. I wish you had snug- 
 gled right up to him." 
 
 Eleanor surveyed her father with cold displeas- 
 ure. Mrs. Hill-Smith was politely oblivious, espe- 
 cially of the word "snuggled." Coming, as she did, 
 of a very old family which dated back to 1860, she 
 felt a certain degree of commiseration for brand- 
 new people like the Baldwins, who had not appeared 
 above the social horizon until 1880 twenty years 
 later. But she really liked them, and with a diplo- 
 matic instinct inherited from her father she relieved 
 the situation by rising and saying : 
 
 "I see dear Mrs. Baldwin on the balcony and 
 must go and speak to her." 
 
 And as she flitted through the glass door a deep 
 masculine voice just behind Eleanor said: 
 [144]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 "Good morning, Miss Baldwin." 
 
 It was the Honourable Edward George Francis 
 Castlestuart-Stuart, third secretary of the British 
 Embassy, whom Eleanor had asked to breakfast that 
 morning. She grew pale as she rose to greet him 
 suppose suppose he had heard that remark about 
 the shoe-stitching machine? And what was more 
 likely ? The shoe-stitching machine was the family 
 skeleton, and was usually kept under lock and key. 
 By some occult and malign impulse her father had 
 hauled it out and rattled it in Mrs. Hill-Smith's 
 face, and perhaps it might be known at the British 
 Embassy ! 
 
 Baldwin himself realised the impropriety of his 
 conduct, and tried to rectify it by saying, with great 
 cordiality, to the Honourable Mr. Castlestuart- 
 Stuart: 
 
 "Good morning good morning. Very pleased 
 to see you. You find me, as usual, among my books 
 my best and oldest friends." 
 
 To this Castlestuart-Stuart replied simply, like 
 the honest Briton that he was : 
 
 "I hate books." 
 
 Baldwin was nearly paralysed at this, and still 
 [145]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 more so when the honest Briton quite eagerly went 
 out on the balcony to speak to Mrs. Baldwin. Only 
 the day before, in one of his rambles about town, he 
 had come upon her getting out of a cab before a 
 poor lodging-house in Southeast Washington, her 
 arms loaded with bundles. A swarm of poor chil- 
 dren had run forward to greet her they evidently 
 knew her well. Her usually cold, statuesque face 
 had been warmed with the sweet light of charity, and 
 a heavenly joy shone in her eyes in the process of 
 feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, and visit- 
 ing the sick. 
 
 As Castlestuart-Stuart went out on the balcony 
 and took Mrs. Baldwin's hand cordially, she 
 blushed, but not painfully. She, too, had seen him 
 yesterday, and he had managed to convey with that 
 peculiar art of a simple and candid nature that he 
 admired her for what she was doing. Again did she 
 feel this sincere and admiring approval, and was 
 profoundly grateful for it. Castlestuart-Stuart 
 knew the history of the family all the diplomats 
 in Washington know the family history of those who 
 race and chase after them. He remembered hear- 
 ing Constance Maitland say "Mrs. Baldwin re- 
 [146]
 
 A MAY SUNDAY IN WASHINGTON 
 
 deems the whole family." Goodness such as hers 
 could redeem much worse people than the Baldwins, 
 thought Castlestuart-Stuart, and he proceeded to be 
 bored by Mrs. Hill-Smith and Eleanor with the best 
 grace in the world. His chief had told him to take 
 what was set before him in a social way, asking no 
 questions for conscience' sake. In the performance 
 of his duty he had dined, breakfasted, and lunched 
 with pork, dry-goods, whiskey, shoes, sewing-ma- 
 chines, and every other form of good, honest trade. 
 But the word trade was never so much as mentioned 
 among them certainly not at the breakfast which 
 was now served. 
 
 [147]
 
 Chapter Eight 
 
 A NEW SENATOR A RAILWAY JOURNEY THE ROSE 
 
 OF THE FIELD AND THE ROSES OF THE GARDEN 
 
 Crane was in nowise disappointed at the sensation 
 his published letter made. The justice of his posi- 
 tion was at once apparent. But it was equally ap- 
 parent that he was making a serious break in the 
 political dykes which held the party together in his 
 State against the ocean of the party opposed to it. 
 Under Senator Bicknell's rule, insubordination had 
 gradually crept in. The late landslide, which had 
 elected a Congress in opposition to the party in 
 power, increased the importance of States like 
 Crane's, where the balance of power shifted about 
 every ten years between the two parties. Senator 
 Bicknell, in the seclusion of his boudoir for such 
 was his luxurious den in reality tore his hair and 
 used all of the expletives permissible in polite so- 
 ciety. In a week or two Governor Sanders, without 
 [148]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 any further newspaper controversy, appointed to 
 the vacant senatorship Mr. Michael Patrick Mulli- 
 gan, a gentleman of Hibernian descent, who had 
 made a vast fortune out of manufacturing pies 
 by the wholesale, and who cherished an honour- 
 able ambition to legislate for the hated Saxon. 
 Senator Bicknell, Crane, and everybody in the 
 State knew of Mr. Michael Patrick Mulligan, 
 who was commonly called Mince Pie Mulligan. 
 He was a ward politician of the sort pecul- 
 iarly unhampered by prejudices or principles, 
 and who bought and sold votes by wholesale, very 
 much as he bought and sold pies. He was totally 
 without education, but by no means without brains, 
 and proposed to himself a seat in the Senate as an 
 agreeable diversion, without the least idea of doing 
 anything beyond voting as directed by "the boss" 
 for so he designated the Senator who was chair- 
 man of the National Committee of Mr. Mulligan's 
 party. It was, on the whole, about as harmless an 
 appointment as could be made. Mulligan's private 
 life was perfectly clean, and he was known to have 
 an open hand for charity, and never to have forgot- 
 ten a friend. It gave both Senator Bicknell and 
 [149]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Crane a breathing-spell, and they were willing 
 enough to put up with Mince Pie Mulligan until the 
 first of January. 
 
 Senator Bicknell, although easy enough in his 
 mind about Mulligan, was far from easy about 
 Crane, who had gone up like a rocket, but showed no 
 disposition to come down like a stick. The Senator 
 got into the way of stealing over to the House, "just 
 to see how things are going" in reality to see how 
 Crane was going and it scared him to observe how 
 Crane was making good his footing everywhere. 
 His first triumph, even after subtracting Thorn- 
 dyke's assistance, had been a real triumph. Follow- 
 ing hard on this came his controversy with the Gov- 
 ernor, in which he clearly had the best of it. The 
 shrewd men in his party saw that in the readjust- 
 ment of allegiances Crane must be counted, and the 
 chairman of the National Committee said as much 
 to Senator Bicknell when the two discussed the war 
 between the Governor and Representative Crane. 
 When the chairman said that, Senator Bicknell felt 
 as Henry IV. of England felt when he saw the 
 Prince of Wales trying on the crown before the 
 looking-glass. 
 
 [150]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 Meanwhile, Thorndyke was speeding West, as he 
 had said, and after a week's absence he turned 
 eastward again, escorting Annette Crane and her 
 two children to Washington, as he had suggested 
 to Crane. 
 
 For the purpose of acquiring knowledge of oth- 
 ers and of one's self, there is nothing like a long rail- 
 way journey. Marriage itself is scarcely more of 
 an eye-opener. The old Greeks, who reasoned so 
 closely on the nature of man, would have been 
 vastly informed could they have taken a few long 
 journeys. Locke could have known more of the hu- 
 man understanding had he taken the Chicago Lim- 
 ited, with a party, from Chicago to Washington. 
 In that journey Annette Crane found out all about 
 Geoffrey Thorndyke, and Geoffrey Thorndyke 
 found out all about Annette Crane. Their mutual 
 discoveries changed the natural sympathy which 
 had been established between them to a deep and 
 lasting friendship. 
 
 Those five years of seclusion at Circleville had 
 been developing years for Annette Crane. In ap- 
 pearance she had gained in dignity and had not 
 lost in youthfulness. She had fair hair and a wild- 
 [151]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 rose complexion, and a pair of the sweetest, most 
 limpid hazel eyes in the world. Everything about 
 her bore the impress of a gentle sincerity her 
 frank gaze, her pretty smile, her soft voice, in 
 which the Western burr was almost obliterated. 
 Those five years represented a cycle to her. In that 
 time all of her relations to life seemed to have 
 changed and especially were her relations with 
 her husband curiously altered. In their early mar- 
 ried life Crane's intensity of love and excess of de- 
 votion had frightened her a little. But in time 
 other passions had come to take the place of this one 
 in his wife, and it had been shouldered out of place. 
 He was a fairly good husband, but after the mi- 
 crobe has once lodged in a man's brain that he is 
 very superior to his wife, he may still be called a 
 good husband, but scarcely an agreeable one. 
 
 At this stage of the proceedings which was at 
 the time she first came to Washington Annette 
 discovered that she adored her husband. As he had 
 always accused her of coldness and reserve, she de- 
 termined to show him all the treasures of her love. 
 It was the common mistake of youth and ignorance ; 
 but Annette, whose secret pride was great, suf- 
 [152]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 fered a horrible mortification in finding that the 
 display of her affection did not bring forth the re- 
 sponse on which she had confidently relied. She 
 had made no moan, and had deceived the whole 
 world, including Crane himself, into believing that 
 she was a satisfied wife; but her misery had been 
 extreme. Her pride, informed by common-sense, 
 had helped her over the crisis. She had herself pro- 
 posed to spend the winters in Circleville, instead of 
 Washington, thus forestalling any possibility of 
 the proposal coming from Crane; and in Circle- 
 ville she had set herself the task of making the most 
 and best of herself, not only for her husband, but 
 for her children. She had learned a good deal in 
 that brief and unpleasant experience in Washing- 
 ton. Among others was a just appreciation of her- 
 self. She realised that she had certain great advan- 
 tages, and she no longer had the self-deprecatory 
 tone of mind which had made her feel that Crane 
 had perhaps condescended in marrying her. She 
 was as passionately attached to him as ever, but her 
 eyes were opened and she saw. 
 
 She had taken to reading as a solace, and as a 
 duty, and not because she was strongly attracted to 
 [153]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 books. The result, however, was good, and she 
 found it enabled her to meet men like Thorndyke 
 on a common ground. In training her children, she 
 had performed the inevitable function of training 
 herself. Under her system, her children had become 
 quieter and sweeter than American children usually 
 are. The American women in general can more 
 than hold their own with the women of other coun- 
 tries, except in two trifling particulars the arts of 
 housekeeping and of bringing up children. In 
 these two things they generally fail egregiously, 
 and the more money they have the more conspicuous 
 is their failure. To paraphrase the Scripture 
 "See you the house of the rich American man? Be- 
 hold therein a tribe of undisciplined and impudent 
 servants and children." The newness of the rich in 
 America may account for the undisciplined servants, 
 of whom their mistresses are in mortal terror. But 
 American women have been bringing up children 
 ever since the settlement at Jamestown and the land- 
 ing of the Pilgrim Fathers, and every year they 
 seem to know less about it. 
 
 However, Annette Crane's children were more 
 quiet, more simply dressed than most American 
 [154]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 children. They had escaped, to a great degree, the 
 demoralising influences of children's magazines, 
 "The Children's Page" in newspapers, and chil- 
 dren's plays, and they had not been amused to death. 
 Annette, it is true, had not mastered the science of 
 managing servants, but in that she was at one with 
 the women of other parts of the country, except the 
 South for, as Senator Hoar once remarked on the 
 floor of the Senate, as a preliminary to a ferocious 
 attack on the South, it is the Southerners alone, 
 in this country, who have the habit of command. 
 Annette Crane, however, although she could no more 
 manage her household staff of one maid-of -all- work 
 than Mrs. James Brentwood Baldwin or Mrs. Hill- 
 Smith could manage her retinue of English flunk- 
 eys and French maids, yet, by tact and judgment, 
 succeeded in keeping the maid-of-all-work with- 
 in bounds which is more than the Brentwood Bald- 
 wins and the Hill-Smiths could do with their maids 
 and flunkeys. 
 
 On the journey with Thorndyke, not one word 
 had passed Annette's lips to indicate any rift be- 
 tween her husband and herself. She spoke of him 
 frankly and affectionately. But the two children 
 [155]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 showed none of that happy eagerness to meet their 
 father which the average American child shows to 
 meet a dutiful and obedient parent. This did not 
 escape Thorndjke, and amazed him. He had the 
 usual bachelor's fear and dread of children, but 
 two days and nights of travel with little Roger and 
 Elizabeth Crane had placed him upon terms of per- 
 fect intimacy with them. Roger had climbed all 
 over him, and Thorndyke, instead of resenting it, 
 had been secretly pleased at it. He had wrung per- 
 mission from Annette to take the boy into the smok- 
 ing-car with him occasionally, and Roger emerged 
 with many mannish airs for his eight years. 
 Thorndyke's berth was at the other end of the 
 sleeper from Annette's and her children, and on the 
 second night, when Thorndyke turned in, he found 
 the youngster had eluded his mother's vigilant eye, 
 and had crawled into Thorndyke's berth for a talk 
 about Indians. Thorndyke not only submitted to 
 this, but permitted Roger to send word to his mother 
 by the porter that he would sleep in Mr. Thorn- 
 dyke's berth, because Mr. Thorndyke had asked 
 him and the two of them managed to defy Annette 
 in the matter. Little Elizabeth took an extreme 
 [156]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 fancy to Thorndyke, and inquired if she might ask 
 Mr. Thorndyke to be her uncle Thorndyke. 
 
 Annette, being acute, as most women are, in af- 
 fairs of the heart, knew, the very first time that 
 Thorndyke casually mentioned Constance Mait- 
 land, that he was in love with her. When he said 
 that he had known her long ago, at Lake Como, and 
 proceeded to describe the beauty of those Italian 
 days and nights, Annette Crane was convinced that 
 it was in those sweet hours that Thorndyke had first 
 loved Constance Maitland. Women have no con- 
 science in probing the love-aff airs of men, reckoning 
 them the common property of the sex and while 
 Thorndyke was blithely unconscious that he had re- 
 vealed anything, Annette was in full possession of 
 all the essential facts. Also, Thorndyke let out that 
 Crane knew Constance Maitland. Crane had never 
 mentioned Constance's name to his wife. That was 
 in itself enough to give Annette a painful interest 
 in this woman who, as Thorndyke said, could charm 
 the birds off the bushes. 
 
 When the train came bumping into Washington 
 on a pleasant May afternoon, Crane was waiting at 
 the station. He seemed delighted to meet his fam- 
 [157]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ily again, and indeed, on seeing them, a kind of ten- 
 derness came over him. He kissed his children af- 
 fectionately, to which they submitted. Just behind 
 them was a shabby, one-armed man, whom a girl of 
 ten or twelve was hugging and kissing with little 
 gurgles of delight. Crane wished that his children 
 had met him like that. 
 
 He thanked Thorndyke warmly for taking care 
 of Annette, who said a few words of earnest thanks, 
 and gave him a smile from her dewy lips and eyes 
 that meant much more. The children bade him 
 good-bye with outspoken regret, and would not be 
 comforted until Thorndyke promised to take them 
 to the Zoo the next Sunday to see the baby elephant. 
 
 As the party came out of the station together, a 
 handsome little victoria whirled by. In it sat Con- 
 stance Maitland, her delicate mauve draperies en- 
 veloping her, a black lace parasol shading her head, 
 and a filmy white veil over her face. By her side 
 sat a little, withered old lady in rusty black one 
 of the flotsam and jetsam of weary old people who 
 drift to Washington to die. It was one of Con- 
 stance Maitland's pet charities to take these weary 
 old people to drive, and in so doing to wear her love- 
 [ 158 ]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 liest gowns, her most exquisite hats a delicate 
 compliment unfailingly appreciated. 
 
 She did not see Thorndyke and the Cranes as 
 they walked out of the station but both men saw 
 her. Annette Crane had abundant confirmation of 
 her hypothesis about Thorndyke. His clear-cut, 
 but rather plain, features became almost handsome 
 as he watched the passing vision of the woman he 
 loved. Of far more interest to Annette was Crane's 
 countenance. It was full of expression, and he was 
 totally untrained in controlling it. There was in his 
 eyes a strange and complex look, which Annette in- 
 terpreted instantly to mean, "You are the type of 
 woman I most admire and to whom I most aspire." 
 It struck her to the heart, but, unlike Crane, she 
 had acquired an admirable composure which made 
 her mistress of herself. She was glad, however, that 
 Constance had not seen her first, after two days of 
 hard travel. 
 
 When the Cranes had reached the suburban villa 
 where Crane lived, a number of letters and de- 
 spatches were awaiting him. Two or three men, 
 Hardeman among them, came out that evening to 
 see him. From them Annette found out the great 
 [159]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 struggle in which her husband was engaged. He 
 had scarcely mentioned it to her. 
 
 Not a word of inquiry or reproach from her fol- 
 lowed. When Crane, however, alluded to the great 
 fight some days afterward, he was a little staggered 
 to find that Annette knew as much about it as any- 
 body. A study of the newspaper files at the Na- 
 tional Library had enlightened her. 
 
 Thorndyke did not see Constance for some days 
 after his return; that is to say, he did not show 
 himself to her. But he resumed his nightly prowl in 
 her neighbourhood a practice ridiculous or pa- 
 thetic according to the view one takes of an hon- 
 ourable and sensitive man, whose honour stands be- 
 tween him and the love of his life. He did not 
 dream that Constance knew of it, but the fact was 
 she had known of it from the very beginning. It 
 was this knowledge which made her somewhat sad 
 dark eyes grow bright, which brought out a deli- 
 cate flush upon her cheeks, and gave her step the 
 airy spring of her first girlhood. It is the glorious 
 privilege of love to restore their lost youth to those 
 who love. Constance knew, by an unerring in- 
 stinct, that Thorndyke, like herself, treasured 
 [160]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 everything of their past that past, so ethereal, so 
 innocent, so dreamlike, but to them eternal as the 
 heavens. On the first evening after Thorndyke's re- 
 turn, when Constance, from her balcony, half-hid- 
 den in towering palms, caught sight of the flame of 
 Thorndyke's cigar as he strolled by in the murky 
 night, she slipped within the darkened drawing- 
 room. The next moment Thorndyke heard her 
 playing softly some chords of the old, old songs 
 nay, even singing a stanza or two. It filled his heart 
 with a vehement hope that set his pulses off like 
 wild horses, into an ecstasy which lasted until he got 
 home to his old-fashioned bachelor quarters. What ! 
 Ask Constance Maitland to give up her beautiful 
 home, her carriages, her French gowns for that! 
 Thorndyke called himself a blankety-blank fool, 
 with an emphasis that bordered on blasphemy. 
 Next day he was so dull that the Honourable Mark 
 Antony Hudgins charged him with having been 
 jilted by a certain tailor-made and Paris-enamelled 
 widow whom Thorndyke paid considerable atten- 
 tion to and cordially hated. That very after- 
 noon, though, he had his recompense, for, stroll- 
 ing through the beautiful but unfashionable Smith- 
 [161]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 sonian grounds, he met Constance Maitland driv- 
 ing ; and in response to a timid request on his part, 
 she took him in the victoria, and they had a 
 delicious hour to themselves under the great, over- 
 hanging elms and lindens. Few situations are more 
 agreeable than driving in a victoria with a charm- 
 ing woman on a sunny spring afternoon through a 
 secluded park. Something like it may be expe- 
 rienced by sitting in a darkened theatre-box a little 
 behind, and within touch of a dainty ear, inhaling 
 the odour of the flowers she wears upon her breast, 
 and watching, with her, the development of the old 
 love-story on the stage. But all pleasures have their 
 seasons and in the spring, the victoria is more en- 
 ticing than the theatre-box. And Constance was so 
 very, very kind to him that afternoon ! 
 
 She showed a truly feminine curiosity about An- 
 nette Crane, whom Thorndyke praised unstintedly, 
 and when he asked Constance to call on Mrs. Crane, 
 Constance replied that she already intended to do 
 so. She asked about Crane's political prospects, 
 which Thorndyke assured her were of the bright- 
 est, adding he had grave apprehensions that the 
 majority in the lower House would not, after all, 
 [162]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 make fools of themselves as he ardently desired they 
 should which sentiment was promptly rebuked 
 by Constance, who, womanlike, never could be 
 made to really understand the game of politics. 
 Then he asked her what she had been doing in 
 that week. She had been out to a suburban 
 club to a dinner given by Cathcart, at which infor- 
 mation Thorndyke scowled. Sir Mark le Poer was 
 coming back to town for a few days, expressly, so 
 Constance believed, to see the Honourable Mark 
 Antony Hudgins, of Texas. The meeting of the 
 Guild for Superannuated Governesses had taken 
 place at the house of the Secretary of State, Mrs. 
 Hill-Smith in the chair, and had been extremely 
 amusing. It had been determined to give an ama- 
 teur concert in a fashionable hotel ball-room. This, 
 as always, had caused many heart-burnings and 
 bickerings. The concert was to be followed by a tea 
 in the same ball-room. All of the prominent ladies 
 of the diplomatic corps had been asked to act as pa- 
 tronesses, and all had agreed, but were not sure they 
 could be present. Some ladies of great wealth, 
 who were even newer than the Baldwins, came rather 
 aggressively to the front. Mrs. Hill-Smith, with 
 [163]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 other scions of old families of her date 1860 
 thought that no one whose family was not moder- 
 ately old that is to say about 1870 should be 
 among the directors and patronesses. They did not 
 speak this aloud, but there was a general knowledge 
 prevailing of the period when the various ladies had 
 emerged from having "help" to the stage of having 
 servants when they had changed the two-o'clock 
 dinner to the eight-o'clock function. Each of these 
 ladies knew all about the others, but hugged the de- 
 lusion that the others did not know about them, or 
 thought, as Eleanor Baldwin did, that they had 
 come of a long line of belted earls, the Hogans in- 
 cluded. Mrs. Baldwin, handsomer, haughtier-look- 
 ing, and more silent than usual, listened to what was 
 said. Constance Maitland she alone, who fath- 
 omed the nature of this misunderstood woman 
 said, in describing it to Thorndyke, that she be- 
 lieved Mrs. Baldwin realised the nonsense of the pro- 
 ceedings better than any one present. Constance's 
 eyes danced when she told about the way in which 
 her only suggestion was received that it would be 
 impossible to find any parallel between the condi- 
 tions of governesses in England and the United 
 [164]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 States. This, however, was ruthlessly brushed aside 
 by a lady who was determined that her daughter 
 should sing a duet at the concert with a member of 
 the Austrian Embassy staff. For the first time Mrs. 
 Baldwin's voice was heard and in it quiet advocacy 
 of something sensible. This was when it was deter- 
 mined to charge a stupendous price for the tickets. 
 
 "In that case," she said, "it seems to me 
 that we ought to have some real music. It doesn't 
 seem quite right to charge the price asked to hear 
 good music, and then give a mere amateur perform- 
 ance." 
 
 "But it is for charity !" screamed several ladies 
 in chorus. 
 
 Then Constance, still with dancing eyes, told that 
 great stress had been laid upon the alleged opinions 
 of various ladies of the diplomatic corps, who had 
 carefully refrained from expressing any opinions 
 at all and were not present to take care of them- 
 selves; and Constance had landed a second bomb- 
 shell in the camp by pleading ignorance of many 
 admirable things, owing to her ill-fortune in being 
 educated chiefly in Europe. This remark necessi- 
 tated an immediate departure, in which she was f ol- 
 [165]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 lowed by Mrs. Baldwin. The two going out to- 
 gether, Mrs. Baldwin had said diffidently to Con- 
 stance : 
 
 "Miss Maitland I I think you are right in 
 all you have said to-day. I hope you'll come to see 
 me soon. I don't seem to be afraid of you you're 
 genuine. You're never pretending to anything. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin had not the gift of tongues, but, 
 as Constance said, a compliment from Mrs. Bald- 
 win was of value, no matter how awkwardly it was 
 expressed. 
 
 A few afternoons later, Constance drove out to 
 the Cranes' suburban villa, but Mrs. Crane was not 
 at home. Constance was disappointed her curios- 
 ity to see Crane's wife was unabated. Ten days 
 afterward, on a warm afternoon, Constance sat in 
 her cool drawing-room, fresh in its summer dress of 
 linen covers, bead portieres, and shaded by awnings, 
 waiting for her carriage. Mrs. Crane was an- 
 nounced. The first impression which Constance got 
 of Annette Crane was that she was exquisitely 
 dressed. Her gown was a delicate, pale-blue muslin, 
 her hat, a white straw, trimmed with white ribbons. 
 [166]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 Both gown and hat were of her own creation, and 
 the whole outfit had cost less than ten dollars bxit 
 not the greatest man-milliner in Paris ever turned 
 out anything more becoming to Annette's simple 
 and natural beauty than she herself had evolved 
 from the "Emporium" at Circleville. The dainti- 
 ness and freshness of it was charming; and when, 
 in moving, she accidentally displayed a snowy, lace- 
 edged petticoat, this daintiness and freshness was 
 emphasised. 
 
 Never in her life had Annette looked forward to 
 a visit with the same dislike as this one. Crane had at 
 last spoken of Constance Maitland, saying he meant 
 to ask her to call. He was very guarded in all he 
 said, but Annette, as would any intelligent wife, saw 
 that he was on his guard, and that, in itself, told 
 much. She said nothing; she was far above the 
 spites of petty jealousy. She no longer depreciated 
 herself in general, but she had been a little fright- 
 ened by Thorndyke's praises of Constance Mait- 
 land's intelligence and charm. And Annette had, 
 by clairvoyance, come very near to Crane's real feel- 
 ing for Constance. It was not love she had be- 
 gun miserably to doubt whether he were really capa- 
 [167]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ble of love but it was a degree of admiration which 
 could not be agreeable to any wife, because it was 
 plain that Constance was the standard by which 
 Crane measured women. Constance could at any 
 moment influence Crane; so Annette justly sur- 
 mised. No woman of sense objects to her hus- 
 band's simple admiration of another woman, but 
 when it comes to another woman being a factor in 
 his life and his thoughts, a wife must and should 
 resent it. 
 
 So it was that Annette disliked the visit she had 
 to pay, and yet was careful not to postpone it. But 
 by some magic of thought and feeling, the instant 
 she came face to face with Constance Maitland, An- 
 nette Crane knew she had a friend. In a moment 
 she was at ease. Like a woman of the world in the 
 best sense, Constance at once found something in 
 common to talk about, and the two sat, in the friend- 
 liest conversation possible, each singularly pleased 
 with the other. 
 
 Seeing Constance dressed to go out, and the vic- 
 toria standing at the door, Annette, after paying a 
 short visit, rose to go, and with more reluctance 
 than she had thought possible. 
 [168]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 "If you are returning home, perhaps you will al- 
 low me to drive you out," said Constance, affably, 
 and Annette accepted without any demurs. 
 
 Seated together in the carriage, the conversation 
 between the two turned on Thorndyke. Annette ex- 
 pressed frankly the deep regard she had for him, 
 and described her efforts to keep the children from 
 annoying him, while Thorndyke, from simple toler- 
 ance of them at first, had become an accomplished 
 child-spoiler and destroyer of parental discipline. 
 Constance spoke of Thorndyke as frankly and with- 
 out the least embarrassment, but Annette, who had 
 surmised very readily where Constance stood in the 
 regard of two men, one of them her own hus- 
 band, had little difficulty in settling 'to her own sat- 
 isfaction that Miss Maitland had a particular re- 
 gard for Mr. Thorndyke. 
 
 After driving for three-quarters of an hour along 
 a suburban road, they came to the cottage where 
 the Cranes had established their quarters. It was 
 near six o'clock, and Crane had returned early 
 from the Capitol. He was sitting on the veranda 
 reading to Roger and Elizabeth when Constance 
 Maitland's carriage drove up. 
 [169]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Since the meeting with his children and noting 
 their perfectly respectful, but perfectly evident, in- 
 difference toward him, Crane had received a blow 
 where he least expected it. He was surprised at the 
 degree to which it affected him. Their laughing 
 eyes, suddenly growing demure on his approach, 
 haunted him amid the hurly-burly of debate, and in 
 long conferences on his political future. Impelled 
 by all the natural impulses, Crane determined to try 
 and win his children's hearts ; and as a beginning, 
 he had come home early from the House that day, 
 bringing with him a book to read to them. The 
 reading had been a success, and in the midst of it 
 Crane looked up and saw the victoria approaching 
 with his wife and Constance Maitland in it. He 
 rose at once and walked down the shady path to 
 where the carriage stood. The children, hand in 
 hand, followed after, blowing kisses to their mother. 
 Crane was so possessed with the idea that An- 
 nette, as a native of Circleville, must be far inferior 
 to Constance, that he had a shock of surprise when 
 he saw the two women actually compared, and real- 
 ised that Annette was by no means cast into the 
 shade. Constance was conscious of this, but good- 
 [170]
 
 A NEW SENATOR 
 
 naturally wished Annette to have the benefit 
 of it. 
 
 Crane talked pleasantly with Constance for a few 
 minutes, Annette still sitting in the carriage. He 
 was certainly remarkably handsome, as the declin- 
 ing sun shone on his clear-cut, olive face, with the 
 little rings of dark-brown hair showing on his fore- 
 head. Constance thought the Cranes the hand- 
 somest couple she had seen for a long time. The 
 children were introduced, behaved well, as American, 
 and especially Western, children seldom do and 
 then Constance said to Annette : 
 
 "I shall soon be closing my house for the season, 
 but before doing so, I hope to have you and Mr. 
 Crane to dinner with me some evening." 
 
 "We will come with pleasure," replied Annette; 
 and a date was arranged for the following week. 
 
 Constance returned to town, thinking to herself 
 what a fool Crane must be not to be satisfied with 
 such a wife as Annette. 
 
 [171]
 
 Chapter Nine 
 
 CONCERNING THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED IN 
 THE SOCIETY JOURNALS 
 
 The days went rapidly by for Crane, to whom 
 they were full of events. The House committed 
 fewer follies than might have been expected, and 
 the management of the international crisis had put 
 the country into a thoroughly good humour with 
 both the House and the Administration. Crane 
 gained steadily in consequence among the politi- 
 cians, and it was with difficulty he kept his head; 
 but he kept it. 
 
 He did not relax his efforts to win his children's 
 hearts, and in the effort he began to feel a strange 
 jealousy of Thorndyke, who had won them without 
 any effort at all. Thorndyke had not only taken 
 Roger and Elizabeth to the Zoo on the first Sun- 
 day, but on the next he had appeared, looking ex- 
 tremely sheepish, and had requested the pleasure of 
 
 [17*]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 their company to the Zoo again. The children were 
 in paroxysms of delight, and Annette laughed out- 
 right at Thorndyke, particularly when he admitted 
 that he had declined an invitation to a breakfast at 
 the Brentwood Baldwins on the ground of a pre- 
 vious engagement in order to carry out this little 
 trip to the Zoo. The trio went off together in great 
 spirits, and Crane and Annette were left alone. 
 Through all the laughing and joking with the chil- 
 dren, Crane had sat silent and sombre they had 
 not yet laughed and joked with him. Suddenly, 
 he proposed a walk to Annette. It was so long since 
 such a thing had occurred that he was embarrassed 
 in giving the invitation, and she in accepting it; 
 but they walked together along the country lanes in 
 the quiet Sunday noon, and a shadow of the old con- 
 fidence was restored between them. But Crane was 
 still fully convinced that Annette was not cut out 
 for the wife of a public man, and could not shine in 
 cosmopolitan society. He was soon to have an 
 opportunity to judge of her in this last partic- 
 ular. 
 
 Constance Maitland had set her mind to work 
 upon that difficult and interesting problem the 
 [173]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 composition of a small dinner. More than that, she 
 meant it to be one at which Annette would be at her 
 best. 
 
 The materials to form a good dinner abound in 
 Washington, and Constance Maitland knew it. As 
 the smart set in Washington is composed largely 
 of persons who have made large fortunes in trade, 
 and who have come to Washington to enjoy these 
 fortunes, Constance knew that from this particular 
 element she could not well draw the material for a 
 really sparkling dinner. The people in Europe 
 know something after all, and their dictum that an 
 elegant and brilliant society cannot be constructed 
 out of retired merchants has not yet been disproved. 
 Let us be candid to ourselves. But in Washington 
 the materials for a real society exist outside of this 
 element, and Constance Maitland had been lucky 
 enough to find it. Sir Mark le Poer was in town 
 again, which Constance reckoned as a special Provi- 
 dence. Like all Englishmen of good position, Sir 
 Mark was bored within an inch of his life by the 
 Anglo-American girl, who is an easily detected im- 
 itation. Constance, having been a friend of Sir 
 Mark's for many years, and knowing him like a 
 [HI]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 
 book, spared him this infliction. She selected in the 
 construction of the party Mrs. Willoughby, an ac- 
 complished Washington woman, whose family had 
 social antecedents dating back to the days of Abi- 
 gail Adams. Mrs. Willoughby had been a distin- 
 guished hostess for twenty years, until the influx of 
 pork, whiskey, dry-goods, and the like commodities 
 had overwhelmed everything to the manner born. 
 She took it all good-naturedly, and got a great deal 
 of amusement out of the status quo. Then there 
 was Mary Beekman, of New York, young, charm- 
 ing, and rich, whose parents had owned a box at the 
 New York Academy of Music, but who were con- 
 spicuously out of it with the Metropolitan Opera 
 set. As Mrs. Willoughby remarked, when Con- 
 stance mentioned the party she had made up : 
 
 "What a very interesting collection of has-beens 
 you have got together, my dear." 
 
 For the men, besides Crane and Sir Mark le Poer, 
 Constance had secured Thorndyke, an admirable 
 dinner man, and a courtly old Admiral for she 
 was quite unlike the widow of a prominent shoe- 
 dealer, who emigrated to Washington and became 
 violently fashionable, and who declared that on her 
 [175]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 visiting list she "drew the line at the army and 
 navy." On the evening of the dinner there was to 
 be a belated reception at the White House, in honour 
 of an international commission which had just 
 opened its sittings in Washington, and it was ar- 
 ranged that the dinner should be somewhat early, 
 that the whole party, being invited to the White 
 House, might adjourn there. 
 
 The rest of the guests were assembled in Con- 
 stance's drawing-room before the Cranes arrived. 
 Crane himself always looked superbly handsome 
 in evening-clothes, and Annette's appearance was 
 scarcely inferior in another way. As on her first 
 meeting with Constance, Annette gave the impres- 
 sion of being exquisitely gowned. A simple white 
 crepe, cut low, showed off her beautiful arms and 
 shoulders, and a few moss rosebuds in their green 
 leaves gave the needed touch of colour to her cos- 
 tume. Simplicity is always the last form of ele- 
 gance to be attained, and Annette Crane had at- 
 tained it. 
 
 Constance Maitland, too, was at her best, in a 
 shimmering black gown, like a starry night, and 
 with her grandmother's pearl necklace around her 
 [176]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 white throat. Mrs. Willoughby, with resplendent 
 black eyes and snow-white hair, looked like one of 
 Sir Peter Lely's court of beauties, and Mary Beek- 
 man was pretty enough to shine anywhere. 
 
 When they were seated around the table the men 
 secretly congratulated themselves on the looks of 
 the women with whom they were to dine; and 
 Thorndyke voiced this opinion by quoting Oliver 
 Wendell Holmes's suggestion that peas and pota- 
 toes could be warmed into an early fruition by sur- 
 rounding them with a ring of handsome women 
 such as were then present which caused the ladies 
 all to beam on him. 
 
 Annette, seated between the Admiral and Sir 
 Mark le Poer, with Thorndyke's kind eyes across the 
 table to encourage her, and with Constance Mait- 
 land's fine gift as a hostess to sustain her, felt per- 
 fectly at ease. Such was not the case with Crane 
 himself. It was the first time he had ever dined at 
 Constance Maitland's house, and he yearned to dis- 
 tinguish himself. He wished the conversation would 
 turn on public affairs ; he felt he could easily lay 
 them all under a spell then, forgetting that people 
 don't go out to dinner to be spellbound, but to enjoy 
 [177]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 an idle hour, and to exchange those pleasant free- 
 doms and trifles which make up the sum of recrea- 
 tion. 
 
 The Admiral, a white-moustached, charming old 
 man, who had hobnobbed with princes, and was none 
 the worse for it, began to compliment Annette on 
 her gown, after having previously called her "my 
 dear." 
 
 "Really," he said, "that gown is a most stunning 
 creation." 
 
 Thorndyke chimed in here : 
 
 "Yes," he said. "It makes Mrs. Crane look like 
 a white narcissus blooming in a bed of mignonette." 
 
 No woman is ever disconcerted by compliments, 
 and Annette was charmed at the praises lavished on 
 her and particularly in Crane's presence. 
 
 "I should say," remarked Sir Mark le Poer, "with 
 my feeble powers of comparison, that Mrs. Crane's 
 gown reminds me of some of your delicious Ameri- 
 can dishes, not all sauces and flavourings like our 
 European things, but fresh and new and exquisite. 
 I know I have a grovelling nature, but, 'pon my 
 soul, is there anything more charming than a dish 
 
 of delicate soft crabs on a bed of parsley " 
 
 [178]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 
 "Oh, oh!" cried Constance. "How your soul 
 must grovel ! However, it's the highest compliment 
 Sir Mark can pay you, Mrs. Crane, because I know 
 he has an unholy passion for soft crabs." 
 
 "I will pay you the highest compliment of all," 
 said Mrs. Willoughby, "I will ask you, who is 
 your dressmaker?" 
 
 "I made this gown myself," answered Annette, 
 with a pretty smile. 
 
 Crane thought he should have gone through the 
 floor into the cellar. He had never in his life felt 
 such a rage of shame. There was Constance Mait- 
 land in a gown that shouted out its French nation- 
 ality in every line and fold. Mrs. Willoughby and 
 Miss Beekman wore the smartest of smart creations 
 probably not one of them had ever done a stitch 
 of sewing in their lives, while here was Annette an- 
 nouncing that she made her own gown ! The next 
 thing he expected her to proclaim was that she had 
 just completed six suits of pajamas for him, all 
 made with her own hands and feet, on her own sew- 
 ing-machine at Circleville. 
 
 Three persons at the table Thorndyke, Con- 
 stance, and Annette herself saw how annoyed 
 [179]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 Crane was at what he regarded as a very damaging 
 admission. Annette, however, was quite composed. 
 She saw that instead of making a mistake she had 
 really made a hit, for she was more complimented 
 than ever upon her cleverness in making so beautiful 
 a gown. In truth, the sweet and natural way in 
 which she owned to her handiwork completed the 
 charm of her simple and unaffected personality. 
 Mrs. Willoughby, turning despairingly to the other 
 women, said : 
 
 "We are simply outclassed. Every man here 
 thinks that all of us, like Mrs. Crane, could make 
 our own gowns if only we were clever enough." 
 
 "I have always thought," said Thorndyke, smil- 
 ing, "that Napoleon's idea of the education of wom- 
 en was probably right a plenty of religion and 
 needle-work. However, as I may get myself in 
 trouble, I will say no more." 
 
 "Very properly," replied Constance, who meant 
 to enlighten Crane on his wife's accomplishments. 
 "I have a great deal of religion, when I am not 
 annoyed by anything, and I beg all of the gentle- 
 men to observe that even if I were clever enough to 
 make a gown like Mrs. Crane's, I could not wear it. 
 [180]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 It is too well adapted to Mrs. Crane's style for any 
 one else to venture on it." 
 
 "I could have worn it thirty years ago," said 
 Mrs. Willoughby, with dangerous candour. "But 
 the fact is, Miss Maitland, all of these men are so 
 absurdly prejudiced in favour of the gown, that 
 they overrate it. After all, the rest of us are fairly 
 well-dressed." 
 
 Annette took all this in the spirit of playful com- 
 pliment in which it was meant, and was flattered by 
 it. Not so Crane. He thought that Annette had, 
 at first, let an ugly cat out of the bag, and secondly, 
 that Mrs. Willoughby was insolent in saying the 
 gown was overrated. But before the dinner was 
 over, his eyes were opened to the fact that Annette 
 had made a most agreeable impression, and every 
 man present admired her, and every woman present 
 liked her. 
 
 As soon as the rather short dinner was through, 
 the carriages were called to take the party to the 
 White House. When Crane and Annette were alone 
 in their cab, he said to her : 
 
 "It seems to me you made a bad break in saying 
 you made your gown yourself." 
 [181]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 "Far from it," replied Annette, pleasantly. "It 
 seems to have made them all like me better. Mrs. 
 Willoughby and Miss Beekman both said they would 
 be glad to call to see me, and so did the Admiral. I 
 think I was a success." 
 
 Crane felt like rubbing his eyes and pulling his 
 ears. Was this his submissive Annette, who never 
 questioned his word on any subject? He half ex- 
 pected her to call attention to the fact that he had 
 been rather dull at the dinner, but although Annette 
 knew it quite as well as he did, she forbore to men- 
 tion it. 
 
 When they reached the White House, there was 
 the usual crowd of carriages, their lamps twinkling 
 like myriads of stars in the soft spring night, the 
 roar of horses' hoofs upon the asphalt, the crowds 
 of gaily dressed women in evening-gowns disem- 
 barking at the north portico, the blare of music 
 from the red-coated band within the corridors. Con- 
 stance Maitland, on Sir Mark le Peer's arm, and 
 followed by her dinner-guests, presently found her- 
 self shaking hands with the President and bowing 
 to the line of ladies of the Administration, which 
 extended across the oval reception-room. Next the 
 [182]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 
 President's wife stood the wife of the Secretary of 
 State. She was a small, thin woman, with a deter- 
 mined nose and the general aspect of a mediaeval 
 battle-axe. She was simply though splendidly at- 
 tired in black velvet, with lace and diamonds, and 
 was as faultlessly correct as the Secretary himself, 
 in language and deportment, except in one small 
 particular she could not pronounce the word 
 "Something." She invariably called it "su'thin" 
 a souvenir of her early bringing up on the banks of 
 Lake Michigan. She greeted Constance coolly, re- 
 membering the meeting at her house for the Guild 
 of Superannuated Governesses, but she was effusive 
 toward Sir Mark le Poer. 
 
 Constance, however, blandly unconscious, passed 
 on, and when she reached the point whence ingress 
 is had to that select region known as "behind the 
 line," she was invited, with Sir Mark, to join the 
 elect. Directly behind her was Thorndyke with 
 Mary Beekman, followed by the Admiral with Mrs. 
 Willoughby, and they, too, were invited within the 
 holy precincts. The President himself had stopped 
 Crane for a word with him, and, on having Mrs. 
 Crane presented, had promptly invited her behind 
 [183]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 the line. This was partly due to the white crepe 
 gown. 
 
 In the general mix-up that followed in the hal- 
 lowed spot, Constance found herself one of a group 
 near Mrs. Hill-Smith, on the arm of the British Am- 
 bassador, and Eleanor Baldwin and the Honoura- 
 ble Edward George Francis Castlestuart-Stuart. 
 Close by were Mrs. James Brentwood Baldwin and 
 Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin, and Mr. James 
 Brentwood Baldwin was gravitating toward the Sec- 
 retary of State, who loomed large at hand. The 
 Secretary was in a very bad humour for so amiable 
 a man, but diplomatically concealed it. After 
 eighteen months spent in labouring over a couple of 
 treaties, they had been knocked out in three weeks 
 by the Senate. The chief of the gang who perpe- 
 trated this nefarious act was a Southern Senator 
 the wildest, woolliest, and weirdest of all the wild 
 and woolly and weird Senators to be found in the 
 north wing of the Capitol. But he happened 
 to be a lawyer, and he had punched the treaties 
 so full of holes that they were literally laughed out 
 of court. This injured the Secretary's feelings 
 very much, but he remembered that Beaconsfield 
 [184]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 and Gortschakoff and Bismarck used to be ruffled 
 the same way, so he concluded to bear it like a 
 statesman and a Christian. 
 
 Drifting toward the Secretary and Mr. Baldwin 
 was a very odd-looking object, whom Thorndyke 
 whispered to Constance was Senator Mince Pie 
 Mulligan. These three got into conversation, very 
 languid on the part of the Secretary and Mr. James 
 Brentwood Baldwin, but very strenuous on the part 
 of Senator Mince Pie Mulligan. A part of Mr. 
 James Brentwood Baldwin's coyness came from the 
 fact that he and Senator Mulligan were old ac- 
 quaintances a fact which Mr. Baldwin had no dis- 
 position to brag about. 
 
 The new Senator had a head of blazing red hair 
 which was as good as a stove on a cold night. He 
 might have stepped bodily from the pages of Life 
 as regarded his contours, but his' small, light-blue 
 eye glittered with humour and shrewdness, while his 
 great slit of a mouth, which divided his face fairly 
 in the middle, had lines of both sense and kindliness. 
 He was enjoying himself hugely, and was not afraid 
 to let anybody see it. Not so Mr. James Brentwood 
 Baldwin, or the Secretary of State, but a Senator 
 [185]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 is a Senator to the Secretary of State, and Secre- 
 tary Slater had in mind other treaties to be laid be- 
 fore the Senate, and so was fairly civil to Senator 
 Mulligan. Mince Pie, himself, was much struck by 
 the appearance of Eleanor Baldwin, who was easily 
 the handsomest woman present, except her mother, 
 but although Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin owned 
 up that Eleanor was his daughter, he made no move 
 to introduce Senator Mulligan to her. 
 
 Eleanor Baldwin was a patriot. It was her sense 
 of patriotic duty alone which took her to a White 
 House reception. White House receptions, in every 
 particular, including the cabinet people and those 
 behind the line, were "mixed." This word "mixed" 
 meant, to Eleanor, a social Gehenna, while the word 
 "exclusive" spelled, for her, the very joy of living. 
 There were some "nice people" by whom she meant 
 the diplomatic corps and those who were intimate 
 with them, and some people from the smart sets of 
 near-by cities but still it was "mixed." There was 
 Letty Standiford, whose father, had Eleanor but 
 known it, was personally responsible for the pres- 
 ent occupant of the White House being there. Then 
 she noticed, quite close to her, the daughter of a 
 [186]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 Senator who lived in a very unfashionable part of 
 the town a girl whom she would never have known, 
 except that paying calls one day, with Mrs. Hill- 
 Smith, she happened to go to the Senator's house. 
 It had contained for her the one unattainable thing 
 in life some fine old furniture and portraits, and 
 a beautiful old grandfather's clock, which had been 
 inherited, and by which the Senator's daughter had 
 not seemed to set any special store. Eleanor would 
 have given all of their costly bric-a-brac for one 
 single piece of old silver or furniture or lace that 
 had belonged even so far back as to her grand- 
 parents ; but neither the Baldwins nor the Hogans 
 had inherited any silver, furniture, or lace, or any- 
 thing except good, strong legs and arms, and the 
 capacity to use them. The sight of family treasures 
 always produced a vague discomfort in Eleanor 
 Baldwin's mind, and gave her a kind of pique tow- 
 ard those who possessed them. At that very mo- 
 ment she felt a secret dislike toward the Senator's 
 daughter, who had on a beautiful antique lace ber- 
 tha, which had been worn by many generations of 
 ladies before the Brentwood Baldwins had "ar- 
 rived," as the French say. There had been a fire 
 [187]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 in the Baldwin family, and likewise one in the Ho- 
 gan family, and Eleanor had persuaded herself 
 that the frame houses burnt down in these two fires 
 were stately mansions, and priceless family treas- 
 ures had perished in the flames and she had hinted 
 at this so often that she had really come to believe 
 it. She was surprised to see that her father and 
 also the Secretary of State were talking with that 
 curious-looking object, Senator Mulligan, whose 
 name she had heard. But seeing the British Ambas- 
 sador approach with Mrs. Hill-Smith on his arm, 
 and Constance Maitland with Sir Mark le Poer, 
 Eleanor turned her whole attention to them. She, 
 too, had brought dinner-guests with her. She had 
 been the hostess at one of those extraordinary din- 
 ners introduced within the last few years by host- 
 esses whose experience of dinner-giving is rudi- 
 mentary. At these dinners, which are consid- 
 ered by their innocent perpetrators as being the 
 acme of elegance, all the men are foreigners. When 
 Eleanor Baldwin had achieved one of these dinners, 
 she felt that she had accomplished a social triumph. 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith had chaperoned the dinner ; and the 
 diplomats invited had refrained from laughing in 
 [188]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 the face of their hostess, although they had chuckled 
 with amusement when in the dressing-room. 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin, who stood in the background, wore 
 more than her usual expression of icy pride, which 
 meant that she was more than usually frightened. 
 Eleanor's lovely face relaxed into a smile as she 
 turned to the British Ambassador, who was a widow- 
 er. He was a tall, handsome, high-bred-looking, el- 
 derly man, with a clean-shaven face, and a thin- 
 lipped mouth, which had contorted itself into a grin 
 on his first arrival in Washington, and the grin had 
 become fixed and perpetual. He had no fortune be- 
 yond his salary and pension, he had rheumatism, 
 liver complaint, nervous dyspepsia, chronic bron- 
 chitis, and a family of six unmarried daughters and 
 four sons, ranging from thirty-six to sixteen years 
 of age yet Eleanor Baldwin would have jumped 
 down his throat, and Mrs. Hill-Smith was going for 
 him with the stealthy energy of a cat after the 
 cream- jug. 
 
 Eleanor, putting on a roguish expression of 
 countenance, said to the Ambassador: 
 
 "Ah, Mrs. Hill-Smith and I are becoming factors 
 in diplomacy! At our dinner to-night, every man 
 [189]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 present was a diplomat, and you may imagine 
 what state secrets were disclosed !" 
 
 "The results may be serious," replied the Am- 
 bassador, laughing a little. "We shall have to keep 
 our eyes upon the American diplomats who were 
 present so as to find out how our secrets were be- 
 trayed." 
 
 "There weren't any Americans present,'* an- 
 swered Eleanor, gaily. 
 
 "Eh?" said the Ambassador, pretending to be 
 deaf. 
 
 Eleanor repeated her words a little louder. There 
 was Constance Maitland near enough to hear, and 
 like Mrs. Hill-Smith, Eleanor was a little afraid of 
 Constance Maitland, and also of Mr. Thorndyke, 
 who had an uncomfortable way of laughing at very 
 serious matters; and just at her elbow was that 
 queer Castlestuart-Stuart, who blurted out things, 
 such as not liking books, which other people kept to 
 themselves; and it was this British bull which now 
 proceeded to play havoc in the china-shop. 
 
 "Yes," he said, with an air of infantine inno- 
 cence, and addressing his chief boldly. "It's posi- 
 tively true. Not a blessed American man there. 
 [190]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 Never saw such a thing anywhere in my life before. 
 Fancy giving a dinner in London to foreign diplo- 
 mats and not having an Englishman there haw! 
 haw!" 
 
 Both Eleanor and Mrs. Hill-Smith turned pale. 
 Constance Maitland laughed outright ; the Ambas- 
 sador and Sir Mark le Poer looked gravely into 
 each other's eyes, and telegraphed, without wink- 
 ing, their amusement. Castlestuart-Stuart kept 
 on. 
 
 "And Hachette, the new French third secretary, 
 told us in the dressing-room about a letter he had 
 got from his mother in Paris terribly strict old 
 lady. She said, 'You have written me about going 
 to dinners where no American men are present. You 
 are deceiving your old mother. It is impossible 
 that persons such as you describe as giving those 
 dinners should not know any respectable American 
 men. At all events, do not bring me back a daugh- 
 ter-in-law who has no acquaintance among re- 
 spectable men in her own country' haw! haw! 
 haw !" 
 
 A flood of colour poured into the faces of Eleanor 
 Baldwin and Mrs. Hill-Smith. The Ambassador's 
 [191]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 chronic grin had become a little broader ; Sir Mark 
 le Poer was tugging at his moustache. That im- 
 possible person, Castlestuart-Stuart, was haw-haw- 
 ing with the keenest enjoyment. Constance Mait- 
 land felt that it was time to come to the rescue of 
 her country even at the sacrifice of her country- 
 women so, smiling openly, she said to the too 
 truthful Castlestuart-Stuart : 
 
 "I can't blame you for laughing it makes all 
 the initiated laugh. But you must see for yourself 
 that it is only the newest of the new who do such 
 things. All people new to society do strange 
 things." 
 
 "Never saw it done anywhere before, 'pon my 
 soul," replied this incorrigible Briton. "We have 
 our new people at home tea, whiskey, drapery, 
 and furniture shops and rawer than you can think 
 but they wouldn't dare haw, haw ! to give a din- 
 ner without an Englishman at it !" 
 
 Constance bit her lip Castlestuart-Stuart was 
 telling the truth, and there was no gainsaying it; 
 nor could she offer any fuller explanation than she 
 had already given. Mrs. Hill-Smith and Eleanor 
 Baldwin were glaring at her, but Constance re- 
 [192]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 maincd calm and unmoved. Then from a most 
 unexpected quarter came a terrible complication. 
 Mince Pie Mulligan, having been frozen out by the 
 Secretary of State and by Mr. James Brentwood 
 Baldwin, had been jammed by the crowd almost 
 in Eleanor Baldwin's arms, without the least re- 
 sistance on his part, and had been an open-mouthed 
 and delighted listener to Castlestuart-Stuart's can- 
 did words. At the first break he proceeded to im- 
 prove his opportunities by hurling himself into the 
 conversation, and looking straight into Eleanor's 
 eyes the Senator bawled to Castlestuart-Stuart : 
 
 "To give such heathenish dinners as you say, 
 people have got not only to be new, but they have 
 got to be blamed fools besides !" 
 
 There was a moment's awful pause, and then an 
 involuntary burst of laughter from all except Mrs. 
 Hill-Smith and Eleanor Baldwin. The functions 
 of society with them meant deadly serious things, 
 such as baking and washing days had been to their 
 grandmothers, and they thought one about as lit- 
 tle a subject of a joke as the other. Eleanor Bald- 
 win drew herself up, and looked coldly at the 
 British Ambassador, whose mouth had certainly 
 [193]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 grown wider. Mrs. Hill-Smith, who was really 
 timid, felt frightened to death. Like Eleanor Bald- 
 win, she had thought it the acme of elegance to 
 have a dinner where every man present was a for- 
 eigner and a diplomat, and secretly regretted that, 
 from motives of state, there always had to be 
 Americans at a cabinet house. And here were the 
 diplomats themselves laughing at her ! It was ex- 
 quisitely painful. 
 
 However, something more painful still was in 
 store for Eleanor Baldwin. Mrs. Baldwin ap- 
 proached the group, and at sight of her Mr. Mulli- 
 gan held out his hand, and a broad smile carried 
 the corners of his mouth back to his ears. 
 
 "Why, Nora Hogan," he cried, "it's good for 
 sore eyes to see you. I haven't seen you before for 
 twenty-five years. Jim Baldwin didn't tell me, just 
 now when I was talking with him, that you were 
 here, and didn't introduce me to his daughter, 
 though I gave him some pretty broad hints. Sure, 
 you know Mike Mulligan, who was clerk in your 
 father's store thirty years ago." 
 
 "Certainly I do, Mike," responded Mrs. Baldwin, 
 calmly and sweetly and offering her hand. It was 
 [194]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 the first time Constance Maitland had ever seen 
 Mrs. Baldwin unbend from her cold stateliness. 
 
 The kindness of her greeting seemed to inspire 
 Senator Mulligan with the greatest enthusiasm. 
 
 "A better man than your father, Dan Hogan, 
 never lived," proclaimed Mr. Mulligan, addressing 
 the circle, "and it's the training I got with him 
 that's made my fortune. 'Dale square, Mike,' Dan 
 Hogan would say he had a beautiful brogue on 
 him 'and give the widders and the orphans the 
 turn of the scale when you're sellin' 'em sugar and 
 starch and such.' And I've done it, Nora, in mem- 
 ory of good old Dan Hogan and if any man says 
 it's impossible to keep a corner grocery and be hon- 
 est, I say to 'em 'It's Danny Hogan, it is, that 
 was the honest man and kept the corner grocery.' " 
 
 Mrs. Baldwin's face grew softer and softer as 
 Mr. Mulligan proceeded. She was so great a lover 
 of charity and had such beautiful humility of spirit 
 that the idea of her father's example having 
 moulded a man into a like charity gave her the deep- 
 est gratitude and pleasure ; and if pride had owned 
 a lodgment in her heart she would have been proud 
 at that moment. 
 
 [ 195 ]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 But not so Eleanor, or Mr. James Brentwood 
 Baldwin, who now appeared hovering on the edge 
 of the group. Eleanor, her face very pale, fixed her 
 eyes on Senator Mulligan with a haughty stare, 
 which he perfectly understood, and resented. A 
 gleam shot into his eye which showed that he meant 
 to pay her back for her insolence. Mr. Baldwin, 
 in the most acute misery, practised the goose-step 
 and tried to stem the tide of Senator Mulligan's elo- 
 quence. 
 
 "Er ah eh Mr. Mulligan, your compliments 
 to the late Mr. Daniel Hogan are very much appre- 
 ciated by me, as well as Mrs. Baldwin especially 
 as I recall with pleasure what an er important 
 er factor you were in the commerce of our na- 
 tive place. For myself, business has no real charm 
 for me," continued Mr. Baldwin, turning to the 
 British Ambassador. "I have been reasonably suc- 
 cessful, but my taste always lay in the way of 
 books. I live among my books." 
 
 Up to this time Mr. Mulligan had spoken with a 
 
 very fair Irish accent, but now he chose to lapse into 
 
 the most violent brogue that ever grew on the green 
 
 sod of Ireland. This was accompanied with a wink 
 
 [196]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 to Constance, which gave her extreme enjoyment, 
 and a nudge in the Ambassador's ribs, which he did 
 not in the least resent. 
 
 "Faith, and it's the way yez always was, Jim 
 Baldwin," cried Mince Pie Mulligan. "Whin you 
 an' me was luggin' the buckets of butter an' jugs 
 of the most iligant molasses to th' cushtomers, it 
 was you, Jim Baldwin, as was always a-savin' your 
 tin cints to buy a book. An' when you was a-coort- 
 in' Dan Hogan's pretty daughter, ye'd actually 
 mourn over the ice-cream ye filled her up wid bekase 
 it wasn't books wid a gilt bindin' !" 
 
 At this point Mr. Mulligan squared himself off, 
 and distributed a general wink around the circle, 
 including Eleanor, who glared at him like a basilisk. 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith felt acutely for her dear Eleanor, 
 but, being secretly consumed with curiosity about 
 antecedents as new to her as they were to Constance 
 Maitland, could not forbear remaining. The Slat- 
 ers were well established socially and financially at 
 the time of Mrs. Hill-Smith's birth, and she was as 
 innocent of the phase of American life which Sena- 
 tor Mulligan was describing as if she had been born 
 and reared in the royal apartments of Windsor Cas- 
 [197]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 tie. Rochefoucauld has said there is something 
 not unpleasant to us in the misfortunes of our best 
 friends and it was certainly true of Mrs. Hill- 
 Smith for while she was eyeing Eleanor Baldwin 
 with an expression of the tenderest sympathy, she 
 was inwardly rejoicing that there was no blot of 
 butter or molasses upon the escutcheon of the Slat- 
 ers. But a relentless fate seemed to direct Senator 
 Mulligan's tongue, and turning to her the Senator 
 said, cheerfully, and without the least encourage- 
 ment: 
 
 "And I'm tould ye are the granddaughter of 
 Cap'n Josh Slater, that I knew like me ould hat, 
 when I was but la'ad, and he was Cap'n of the 
 River Queen, one o' the floatin' palaces of the day 
 on the Ohio River." 
 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith trembled a little, but answered, 
 coldly : 
 
 "I think you must have been misinformed." 
 
 "Well, hardly," responded Senator Mulligan, 
 blithely, "since it was your own father as tould me, 
 not half an hour ago. I knew th' ould man well 
 an' he was an honest ould cuss, but for tobacco- 
 chewin' an' bad whiskey ye'll not find his match be- 
 [198]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 
 tune here and the lakes o' Killarney. He kneAv how 
 to turn th' honest pinny though, did ould man Slat- 
 er. No givin' of widders an' orphans the turn of 
 the scale, nor the turn of a hair neither he was 
 out for the last rid cint. He was a good-lookin' 
 ould chap, when he was washed up and had on a 
 clean shirt and now, I'll say, I think you're like 
 him raymarkably like him and it's up to you to 
 prove that he wasn't your grandfather, begorra!" 
 
 Had a bomb with a burning fuse dropped at Mrs. 
 Hill-Smith's feet, she could not have been any more 
 astounded. She looked from Mince Pie Mulligan's 
 laughing face to Eleanor Baldwin's, and then 
 glanced helplessly around the circle. It was im- 
 possible not to see that the British Ambassador, 
 Thorndyke, and the wretched Castlestuart-Stuart, 
 who was primarily responsible for the whole dread- 
 ful business, were all enjoying themselves extreme- 
 ly. Constance Maitland alone seemed to feel some 
 sympathy for the unfortunates. It was, however, 
 chiefly on account of Mrs. Baldwin, who began to 
 be painfully embarrassed, that Constance said, 
 smilingly, to Senator Mulligan: 
 
 "Your reminiscences are very interesting, and 
 [199]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 what you say of Mrs. Baldwin's father must give 
 her cause for honest pride. You have described a 
 phase of American life of which nobody need be 
 ashamed." 
 
 "Except them as has been through it," promptly 
 responded Senator Mulligan. "There's some things 
 human nature" he called it "natur" "will al- 
 ways be ashamed of as long as it is human nature. 
 One of 'em is that more people blush for a rise in 
 their family than for a fall. And it ain't so fool- 
 ish as it seems; because, if you were born on top 
 of the pile, and all your people were, bedad, you 
 don't do any of these outlandish things such as me 
 young friend," indicating Castlestuart-Stuart, 
 "has been tellin' us about. By the way," asked 
 Senator Mulligan, explosively, of the terrible Cas- 
 tlestuart-Stuart, "who was it give the dinner any- 
 how?" 
 
 And what should that scion of aristocracy, the 
 Honourable Edward George Francis Castlestuart- 
 Stuart, do but answer: 
 
 "Miss Baldwin's was the last I went to but there 
 were plenty of others !" 
 
 Ambassadors are not supposed to laugh but at 
 [200]
 
 THINGS NOT TO BE MENTIONED 
 this, the British Ambassador abandoned all hope of 
 keeping serious. Constance was laughing frankly, 
 Thorndyke was in quiet convulsions, Castlestuart- 
 Stuart and Senator Mulligan were exchanging 
 sympathetic grins and then Eleanor Baldwin said, 
 with the air of an offended queen : 
 
 "Papa, give me your arm." 
 
 This Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin, with a 
 heightened colour, did, but not before Senator 
 Mulligan genially remarked: 
 
 "Well, the best of frinds must part, so here's 
 good-bye and good-luck to ye, Jim Baldwin, and 
 I'll say to you, Miss Baldwin, I hope ye'll live and 
 die as honest as ould Danny Hogan, your grand- 
 father, and a better man never stepped in shoe- 
 leather;" and then, turning to Mrs. Hill-Smith, 
 Senator Mulligan continued, "I commind to you 
 the example of your grandfather, Cap'n Josh Slat- 
 er, that I had the honour of knowin' and who always 
 got what he wanted, and was an agreeable man 
 enough barrin' the bad tobacco and mean whiskey. 
 But in the polite society in which we find oursilves, 
 in these dazzlin' halls of light an' scenes of pothry 
 an' splendour, both Cap'n Josh Slater an' good 
 [201]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ould Danny Hogan wud be about as much at home 
 as a ham sandwich at a Jew picnic !" 
 
 With these words, Senator Mince Pie Mulligan 
 bowed himself off, leaving a great trail of social 
 devastation behind him. 
 
 [ 202 ]
 
 Chapter Ten 
 
 THERE ARE MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 EXCEPT TEMPTATION 
 
 Congress adjourned on the 15th of June, just two 
 months after it was convened in extra session. 
 Thorndyke's apprehensions had been confirmed. 
 Few legislative follies had been committed the 
 House had gone with the people, leaving to the 
 Senate and the Administration the disagreeable task 
 of stemming the popular tide as far as possible, 
 when it rushed on too fast. No reputations had 
 been damaged in either House, and several had been 
 made but none to equal Julian Crane's. As for 
 Thorndyke, the newspapers seemed to have forgot- 
 ten his existence. 
 
 By the time adjournment was reached, Washing- 
 ton was deserted. The class which is designated as 
 "everybody" was either going or gone. The out- 
 going steamers carried half the town across the 
 ocean. Thorndyke had promised himself a treat 
 [203]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 a trip to Europe that year the first since that 
 long-remembered one which had settled his fate in 
 some particulars for him. It was the first time in 
 years that he felt he could afford it, for he was a 
 free-handed man, generous to his invalid sister, not 
 averse to lending money when he had it, and fond of 
 giving presents. To do this on his Congressional 
 salary did not leave much surplus. This summer, 
 however, he concluded he could take a three months' 
 trip. Constance Maitland's return had not changed 
 his determination, because he felt that he could not, 
 in decency, follow her wherever her summer wan- 
 derings might take her ; and if he could not be with 
 her, he would rather, just then, be in Europe. 
 
 But one word from Constance, on the afternoon 
 when he went to bid her farewell, changed all this 
 in the twinkling of an eye. 
 
 He found that she had just returned from a near- 
 by place in Virginia, where her family had been es- 
 tablished many generations before the Louisiana 
 Purchase had sent them toward the Gulf of Mexico. 
 Constance was full of her Virginia trip, and told 
 Thorndyke that she meant to take, for the summer, 
 the old family place, Malvern Court, at the foot of 
 [204]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 the Blue Ridge Mountains, where many generations 
 of dead and gone Maitlands had lived and flour- 
 ished, after their migration from their first Ameri- 
 can home on the shores of the Chesapeake. She 
 showed him a photograph of the place. It was an 
 old brick manor-house, very tumble-down, but pict- 
 uresque, with noble old trees around it, and even in 
 the picture it conveyed a delicious look of repose. 
 It was the sort of a place where nothing startling 
 had ever happened except the Civil War, and noth- 
 ing ever could happen again. The present owner 
 of the place, an elderly maiden lady, "Cousin Phil- 
 lis," was the last of her race. She had taken up the 
 notion that she would like to spend the summer at 
 "the Springs," as she had done "in papa's time, 
 and grandpapa's time;" and Constance, meaning 
 to confer a benefit on her, had offered to rent Mal- 
 vern for the summer at a price which would have 
 been dear for a Newport cottage. The old lady, 
 after a long struggle, had agreed. Constance did 
 not tell all of this, but Thorn dyke shrewdly sus- 
 pected that the arrangement was designed to help 
 Cousin Phillis far more than she imagined. 
 
 "And Cousin Phillis thinks she is doing me the 
 [205]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 greatest favour in the world, and that she is giving 
 me the place for nothing," Constance explained, 
 smiling, to Thorndyke. 
 
 Then she went on to tell of her battles with Cousin 
 Phillis regarding what was necessary for the house. 
 Cousin Phillis could not conceive that anything 
 should be wanting at Malvern Court, which stood 
 exactly as it was at the beginning of the war, minus 
 forty odd years of wear and tear; and Constance 
 had only got the old lady's consent to fit up the 
 house somewhat according to modern ideas, by 
 promising to remove every one of the new-fangled 
 fallals and gewgaws when she should give up the 
 place. By hard fighting she had got Cousin Phillis 
 to agree to have some painting and papering done, 
 and hoped when once Cousin Phillis was out of the 
 way, that the house could be made as comfortable 
 as it was picturesque. 
 
 It was two hours by train from Washington and 
 six miles from the nearest railway-station. 
 
 "Will it not be very lonely for you up there?" 
 asked Thorndyke, smiling at Constance's descrip- 
 tion of her efforts to benefit Cousin Phillis against 
 her wiU. 
 
 [206]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 "Ah, you do not know Virginia cousins," an- 
 swered Constance. "Nobody yet was ever known 
 to want for company in Virginia. The two days I 
 was at Malvern it rained cousins. Each one had to 
 be treated with distinguished consideration, and 
 after I had worn myself out with civility to them 
 for they were coming all day and half the night to 
 call on me Cousin Phillis gently intimated to me 
 that if I wasn't more attentive to my relations I 
 might find myself very unpopular with them ; and 
 I find that in Virginia to be unpopular with one's 
 relations is to be an outcast. They regard me with 
 great suspicion ; my Louisiana ways and my Louis- 
 iana accent only half please them ; and they seem 
 to think me a very forgetful person because I do 
 not remember every birth and death in the family 
 which occurred during the seventy or eighty years 
 that the Maitlands have been established in Louis- 
 iana. I hope," she continued, smiling, "that you 
 will have the opportunity to meet some of my Vir- 
 ginia cousins. I shall have a great many house- 
 parties during the summer, and you are among those 
 I shall invite. I hope you may accept." 
 
 "I accept now," replied Thorndyke, and in a 
 [207]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 breath his trip to Europe melted away and was as 
 if it had never been. Then Thorndyke very art- 
 fully found out the hour of her departure, which 
 was to be three days later. 
 
 When Constance, on a warm June morning, ar- 
 rived at the station, with her five negro servants and 
 her household and personal paraphernalia, to start 
 for her summer in Virginia, she found Thorndyke 
 waiting for her. In the station he had met Annette 
 Crane, who had just seen a constituent off on the 
 train. At the same moment they caught sight of 
 Constance. 
 
 "Come," said Thorndyke, "go with me and say 
 good-bye to Miss Maitland. She is a real friend 
 of yours, and I know she will be glad to see you be- 
 fore she goes." 
 
 "I feel that she is a real friend," answered An- 
 nette. "I never knew a woman in whom I felt 
 greater confidence." 
 
 "Constance is a very loyal and a very large-mind- 
 ed woman," replied Thorndyke, absently. He had 
 used her first name inadvertently, and only became 
 conscious of it when Annette began laughing softly. 
 Then he coloured violently, and explained that he 
 [208]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 had lost his mind, or lost his manners, or something 
 of the sort, to account for his calling Miss Maitland 
 by her first name. 
 
 They came upon Constance very smartly dressed, 
 as always, and looking young and animated. She 
 was superintending the tickets and luggage of her- 
 self and her five servants. There were innumerable 
 boxes and trunks to be seen to, besides a couple of 
 traps and a pair of horses, and Constance was do- 
 ing it vigorously, with Scipio Africanus, her 
 young butler, and Charles Sumner Pickup, her 
 coachman, acting as purely ornamental adjuncts, 
 giving her frequent and disinterested advice about 
 the horses, the trunks, and other impedimenta, 
 but in reality being waited on by their mistress. 
 Whenever negroes go on a journey, they at once be- 
 come children, and are treated as such by those who 
 understand them. In a group stood the cook, an 
 elderly, respectable negro woman, dressed in black, 
 with the stamp of "fo' de war" written all over her 
 honest black face, and a housemaid and a lady's 
 maid, both chocolate coloured. 
 
 Whenever Thorndyke had observed Constance's 
 servants before, they had been dressed with entire 
 [209]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 correctness but on this occasion they had evident- 
 ly been allowed complete latitude. The two maids 
 wore the shortest of short skirts, with violent-col- 
 oured shirtwaists. They had on hats exactly alike 
 large picture-hats of white, with wreaths of red 
 roses. The same riot of colour had broken out on 
 Scipio Africanus and Charles Sumner Pickup. 
 Scipio sported a scarf-pin composed of two United 
 States flags crossed, while Charles Sumner Pickup 
 carried a cane from the handle of which fluttered 
 red, white, and blue ribbons. The cook, who was 
 plainly an ante-bellum product, had donned, for 
 the journey, an immense crape veil, which dangled 
 to the ground, and implied that she was in the first 
 stages of widowhood. As a fact, she had "planted 
 her ole man," in the Afro-American vernacular, 
 about thirty years before, but at intervals since, she 
 had adorned herself with the crape veil, as a dissi- 
 pation in dress akin to the maids' wreaths of red 
 roses, and the butler and coachman's assumption of 
 the national colours. 
 
 Thorndyke, on reaching Constance's side, prof- 
 fered his assistance, but his offer was promptly re- 
 pulsed. 
 
 [210]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 
 "How on earth would you manage five negroes ?" 
 she asked. "You would lose your patience in five 
 minutes you do not know what they know or what 
 they do not know. I think I have everything 
 straight now I will keep the tickets myself" and 
 then, escorted by Thorn dyke, she saw her five 
 charges and the horses, the traps, and the trunks in 
 their proper cars, and, sending Thorndyke after 
 Annette Crane, herself took her place in the draw- 
 ing-room car for her two hours' trip. 
 
 When Annette stepped in the car to spend ten 
 minutes with her, Constance was sincerely glad. 
 She felt a strong and strange sympathy with An- 
 nette Crane. Never were women more dissimilar in 
 type, in environment, in ideas, than those two wom- 
 en; but both were gentlewomen of sense and right 
 feeling, and on that common ground they met and 
 became friends. 
 
 Constance expressed a wish that Mrs. Crane 
 might be in Washington the next winter, and An- 
 nette quietly replied that she expected to be. 
 
 Thorndyke then began telling her of his amuse- 
 ment at watching Constance, with five servants, 
 working like a Trojan for them. 
 [211]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "Of course, you, with your cool Northern tem- 
 perament, cannot understand the negro," replied 
 Constance, good-humouredly. "You would expect 
 a negro to work when he could help it. What a de- 
 lusion ! Suppose I had trusted Scipio or Charles to 
 buy those tickets and get those horses aboard, and 
 meanwhile a street-band had come along?" 
 
 "I suppose Scipio or Charles would have got the 
 tickets and attended to the horses just the same," 
 answered Thorndyke. 
 
 "Do you? That shows your utter density re- 
 garding Scipio and Charles. I daresay you 
 thought it very amusing that I should work for my 
 servants." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "They work for me when I want them and make 
 them that is, they work in a certain way their 
 way. And I suppose you would have that United 
 States flag pin off Scipio's bosom and that cane 
 with the red, white, and blue ribbons out of Charles's 
 hand if you were travelling to Newport with them." 
 
 "I am afraid I should." 
 
 "And you could not stand the wreaths of red 
 roses on the hats of my two maids?" 
 [212]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 
 "I am quite sure I couldn't." 
 
 "Then, Mr. Thorndyke, stop legislating for the 
 negroes, because you know nothing about them." 
 
 "I admit," said Thorndyke, "that the patience 
 and indulgence of Southerners toward negroes has 
 always amazed and charmed me. But I believe the 
 negro would be better off if he were made to assume 
 greater responsibilities." 
 
 "Go to. Can the Ethiopian change his skin ?" 
 
 Just then, Mr. James Brentwood Baldwin and 
 Eleanor sauntered into the state-room of the car. 
 They were to join a yachting party at Old Point 
 Comfort. They spoke distantly and coolly to both 
 Constance and Thorndyke the memory of Sena- 
 tor Mince Pie Mulligan's candid praise of "ould 
 Danny Hogan at th' corner grocery" was still a 
 green and smarting wound in their breasts. 
 
 Mr. Baldwin's English valet and Eleanor's 
 French maid were doing everything possible for the 
 comfort of their master and mistress and with per- 
 fect intelligence. Thorndyke smilingly indicated 
 it, but Constance shook her head. 
 
 "I am always hearing complaints about French 
 and English servants in this country, but we who 
 [213]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 are accustomed to negro servants never complain of 
 them." 
 
 "Because you never require anything of them; 
 however," added Thorndyke, "I'll admit there seems 
 to be a comfortable sort of arrangement between 
 you. It would drive any but Southern people mad, 
 but you don't seem to mind it." 
 
 Then Constance, turning to Annette, said she 
 would be so glad if she and Mr. Crane would pay 
 her a visit during the summer. Annette's eyes 
 sparkled; it was a distinct triumph for her, be- 
 cause she knew, and knew that Crane knew, that he 
 never would have been asked but for her. She 
 thanked Constance warmly, but said she was afraid 
 it was impossible she never went away from Cir- 
 cleville in summer; and Constance, seeing longing 
 in Thorndyke's eye, repeated her invitation to him, 
 and made his middle-aged heart beat fast by doing 
 it ; and then it was time to go, and the train pulled 
 out, and Constance was gone. 
 
 Thorndyke put Annette on her suburban car, 
 
 and walked back to his lodgings, through the hot, 
 
 bright streets hot and bright in spite of the lush 
 
 greenness of the shade. But the day had turned 
 
 [214]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 lead coloured to him ; and although there were still 
 plenty of persons in town, and the capital was 
 seething, for it was yet some days before adjourn- 
 ment, Thorndyke felt as if the whole town were 
 silent and deserted. 
 
 The presence of Constance Maitland made any 
 place full for Geoffrey Thorndyke, and her ab- 
 sence made a desert to him. He contrasted in his 
 own mind his feelings of to-day and of a year ago. 
 Then, he had reached a kind of dull acquiescence 
 in fate, or thought he had. Despairing of forget- 
 ting Constance, he had learned to endure quietly 
 the poignant pain of remembering her, and in de- 
 fault of all else in life to interest him he had thrown 
 his whole soul and being into politics. Now, the 
 sound of Constance Maitland's voice, the touch of 
 her hand, was always with him, and had turned an 
 otherwise dull and prosaic world into a region of 
 splendid tumult and delicious agitations, for he 
 would not have gone back to his past state for any- 
 thing on earth. Constance had a deep regard for 
 him of that there could be no doubt. She com- 
 manded his society whenever she could ; she exerted 
 herself to please and flatter him; and he accepted 
 [ 215 ]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 it as a man drinks water in the desert, not analys- 
 ing it, but exulting in it. Even those frequent sea- 
 sons when he called himself a blankety-blank fool 
 were not devoid of enjoyment at least, it was not 
 stagnation. He yearned after a million or so of 
 money, that he might lay at Constance's feet, and 
 ask her to throw away the fortune that stood be- 
 tween them, but he was too sound and sane a man 
 to imagine that he would ever be a rich man. Poli- 
 tics had by no means lost its interest for him, but 
 rather had it gained that at least was something 
 to give him value in Constance's eyes. As for that 
 bare possibility of the senatorship two years hence, 
 in the event that Senator Standiford should retire, 
 Thorndyke regarded it as an iridescent dream. He 
 did not believe that Senator Standiford would re- 
 tire. He heard no more of Letty Standi ford's del- 
 icate health, or the Senator's, either. Letty was 
 rushing about Washington in an automobile, hello- 
 ing at young gentlemen on the street, and doing 
 many loud, unnecessary, and innocent things which 
 require much nervous energy and lung-power. The 
 Senator himself gave no indications of ill-health 
 and fatigue. In Washington he led a life as reg- 
 [216]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 ular and temperate as that of a boarding-school 
 miss, but when local elections were impending, or 
 a national convention was on hand, Thorndyke had 
 known the old gentleman to go for a fortnight at a 
 time almost without eating or sleeping, and then 
 come out looking as fresh as a daisy. So Thorn- 
 dyke was a little sceptical about his boss's possible 
 retirement from the field, and took it that the Sena- 
 tor had been trying some sort of an intellectual 
 bunco game upon him. 
 
 When the adjournment of Congress was reached, 
 Thorndyke took the first train to his northern home. 
 It was a comfortable old place, on the skirts of an 
 old colonial town left high and dry among more 
 progressive places ; but shady, serene, and comfort- 
 able in the extreme. Here, in the house where he and 
 his father and his grandfather and great-grand- 
 father were born, Thorndyke's summers were spent 
 with his sister Elizabeth, a gentle, sweet-faced 
 creature, who had not walked for many years, but 
 whose mind and hands were busy doing such good as 
 lay in their reach. 
 
 Down in the town before a wooden one-story of- 
 fice with a porch, hung a battered tin sign, which 
 [217]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 had been repaired and repainted twenty times since 
 first, in Geoffrey Thorndyke's grandfather's time, 
 it had borne the legend, "Geoffrey Thorndyke, 
 Counsellor at Law." Thorndyke still kept the 
 dingy little office which had been his grandfather's 
 and his father's before him. He had given up the 
 best of his law-practice at the time that he had 
 been thrown down and securely roped for Congress 
 by Senator Standif ord and his trusty cowboys, the 
 State Committeemen, but had always clung to the 
 old law-office as a refuge in case Senator Standif ord 
 should relegate him to private life. Although he 
 had been compelled to abandon the active and con- 
 tinuous practice of his profession for according to 
 the old axiom, "The law is a jealous mistress" 
 Thorndyke remained a student of law. He was by 
 nature and training a very considerable lawyer, and 
 his legal acquirements had helped to win for him 
 the high and steady position he held in the House of 
 Representatives. He was not a leader of men, but 
 rather a thinker and adviser, and was proud of the 
 somewhat scornful appellation of "the scholar in 
 politics." 
 
 In his quiet summer home, among his few shabby 
 [218]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 books which, unlike Mr. James Brentwood Bald- 
 win, he read diligently, and never thought to men- 
 tion that he lived among them Thorndyke spent 
 his placid summers. He read much, and observed 
 a great deal. He was close to the border of Crane's 
 State, and their congressional districts were con- 
 tiguous, and naturally Thorndyke knew the polit- 
 ical happenings across the border. 
 
 In all his experience of men, Thorndyke had 
 never watched with the same interest the develop- 
 ment of a man in his public and private life as he 
 watched Julian Crane's. He saw the good and the 
 evil struggling together in Crane, and had not yet 
 found out which was fundamental. 
 
 Crane, with Annette and the two children, had 
 returned to Circleville immediately after the ad- 
 journment of Congress, and immediately, on reach- 
 ing home, he had been beset with a temptation, 
 against which he had made a short, hard fight, and 
 then was conquered, and gave up all the honesty of 
 his soul as regards politics. One week after his re- 
 turn to Circleville, he had received overtures for 
 peace from Governor Sanders, and a meeting be- 
 tween them had been arranged. 
 [219]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 It took place in a neighbouring city, in the pri- 
 vate parlour of a hotel. The two men were entirely 
 alone. Sanders, a bull-dog of a man, came out 
 frankly and told Crane that, by the cutthroat pol- 
 icy they were pursuing, they were simply playing 
 into Senator Bicknell's hands, and depriving the 
 State of its just weight with the National Commit- 
 tee in the year of a Presidential convention. His 
 proposition was a large one, but was put in a few 
 words. The Governor began by freely admitting 
 that Crane had got the best of him in the matter 
 of the senatorial appointment the politicians were 
 agreed on that. But all men make blunders, and 
 Governor Sanders proposed to atone for the blun- 
 der he had made about the senatorship by joining 
 forces with Crane instead of opposing him further. 
 It was plain that there was a strong revolt against 
 Senator Bicknell, and a split was inevitable among 
 the chiefs as soon as the Legislature met, which 
 would elect a senator. When this break came, new 
 alignments must be made, and Governor Sanders 
 believed and said that if he and Crane should join 
 forces they could oust Senator Bicknell and get 
 control of the machine.
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 At the mention of Senator Bicknell's name, Crane 
 changed countenance, and mumbled something 
 about his political obligations to the Senator. San- 
 ders met this by saying that it was his opinion, if 
 Senator Bicknell were not ousted, there would be 
 grave danger that the party would lose the State at 
 the next election ; and, in any event, there must be a 
 new arrangement of forces, and he was simply pro- 
 posing to take advantage of the inevitable. He 
 then went on to explain briefly his plan. The pro- 
 tocols must provide that Governor Sanders should 
 throw all his strength toward getting Crane the 
 party nomination for the short senatorial term in 
 January, and second Crane's efforts to succeed 
 himself. In return, Crane was to devote all his 
 energies toward securing the Governor's election 
 two years hence to succeed Senator Bicknell. Mean- 
 while, Senator Bicknell was nursing a very robust 
 and promising Vice-presidential boom, which must, 
 of course, be strangled in the cradle. Nothing 
 must be heard of it at the next Presidential conven- 
 tion a year hence ; but four years hence, when both 
 Crane and Sanders would be in the Senate, it would 
 be time enough to decide which one would strive for 
 [221]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 it. The geographical position of the State and the 
 uncertainty of the elections for many years past 
 would put them in a very good strategic position 
 either to capture the Vice-presidential nomination 
 or to dictate it to the convention ; and that was a 
 prize which could be held in reserve. 
 
 The success of the whole, however, depended upon 
 keeping Senator Bicknell in the dark, for although 
 he had not displayed the qualities of a truly great 
 boss, like Senator Standiford, yet he was a man of 
 considerable force, well liked, a gentleman, and a 
 favourite in his party. If he suspected the plotting 
 of an insurrection against him, he might in two 
 years' time overthrow it completely; but he was an 
 unsuspicious man a bad thing in a boss and 
 could be easily deluded into believing that no effort 
 was necessary on his part to hold his own. For 
 that reason, the warfare between Sanders and Crane 
 should be ostensibly kept up. Especially must this 
 be the case in selecting delegates to the National 
 Convention. Senator Bicknell's aspirations for the 
 Vice-presidential nomination must be frosted on the 
 apparent ground of dissensions among the leaders 
 in the State but as soon as the election was over
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 they could come together and have four years' ami- 
 cable struggle to prove whether Sanders or Crane 
 should be seriously put forward for the Vice-presi- 
 dential nomination five years hence. 
 
 Crane listened to this nefarious scheme with dis- 
 gust a disgust in which a great longing was 
 strangely and violently mingled. Every word that 
 Sanders said was true; Crane knew that perfectly 
 well. The machine was going to pieces there could 
 be no doubt of that and Crane, with accurate 
 knowledge of conditions, saw that the Governor's 
 plan, although far-reaching, was quite practicable. 
 The whole thing, however, hinged upon keeping 
 Senator Bicknell in the dark. If it had been a free, 
 fair fight, the Governor and himself might be 
 worsted. Senator Bicknell might be considered the 
 founder of Crane's political fortunes, and had cer- 
 tainly treated him with great kindness, and had 
 procured his advancement ; but then, it was a ques- 
 tion whether the great law of necessity would not 
 compel Crane to go with Sanders. Senator Bicknell 
 would not, if he could, ruin Crane, but Governor 
 Sanders was fully capable of it, and would, if he 
 could. Indeed, Sanders conveyed as much. 
 [223]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 "Of course," he said, carelessly, as he lighted a 
 cigar, "you would have to be very circumspect in 
 every way from now on. Voters, you know, are 
 easily offended. As a matter of business, purely, I 
 shall mention to you that there has been some talk 
 about your leaving your wife at home during your 
 time spent in Washington. I have heard that, 
 except for the short visit she paid you during the 
 extra session, she has not been there since the first 
 session at which you took your seat. Of course, 
 everybody knows that it is all straight between you, 
 but it was a mistake on your part, just the same. 
 It will give your enemies a handle against you." 
 
 Crane grew pale. How strange it was that in all 
 those years he had never been conscious of the su- 
 preme folly of his behaviour ! It had not once oc- 
 curred to him until that evening in Washington, 
 hardly more than a month ago ! 
 
 "Mrs. Crane remained by choice in Circleville 
 on account of the children," replied Crane, "and 
 because my salary as a congressman doesn't admit 
 of my having my family there as I would wish 
 particularly as I had some debts to pay, and my 
 house in Circleville has a mortgage on it."
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 "Oh, I understand perfectly, Mr. Crane. All of 
 us who know you do. I was not speaking of the 
 views of your friends, but of your enemies, on the 
 subject. However, if money is the consideration, I 
 think I could guarantee your senatorial term in 
 good style; nothing extravagant, you know, but 
 enough to put your mind at ease. Your notes, 
 with my indorsement, would be accepted at any 
 bank in the State, and the matter could be kept 
 quiet." 
 
 It was the old story making chains out of his 
 necessities. And they were very great. Crane 
 spoke of paying his debts. He had scarcely made 
 any reduction in the principal, and had only suc- 
 ceeded in paying the interest which, with his liv- 
 ing expenses, of which his own were twice as much 
 as Annette's and the children's, and his small life- 
 insurance, had galloped away with his five thousand 
 a year. And if he should lose the nomination 
 there was not much danger of that now, but every- 
 thing was possible with a machine and a man like 
 Governor Sanders. 
 
 Crane's better nature, however, rebelled against 
 the deceit to be practised on Senator Bicknell. 
 [225]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 That he declared he could never bring himself to 
 and believed it at the moment. 
 
 "Then," said Governor Sanders, rising, "we 
 may conclude our conference. The entire success 
 of the campaign I have mapped out depends upon 
 Senator Bicknell not being taken into our confi- 
 dence. We are not proposing anything against the 
 party; we are simply proposing to do for our- 
 selves what Senator Bicknell has done for himself; 
 and if things go on as they have been going under 
 his direction, I think we stand an excellent chance 
 of losing the State at the Presidential election." 
 
 Before Crane's ardent mind loomed a vision. 
 Six years in Washington as a Senator and he was 
 not yet forty -three years old; living in good style, 
 and then, the chance, not a bad one by any means, 
 of the Vice-presidential nomination in a little over 
 four years. It was a glorious vista. Like the 
 Arabian glass-seller, his imagination far out- 
 stripped itself. He saw himself, at forty-eight, 
 Vice-president, at fifty-two, another term, at fifty- 
 six, still in the Senate, with a great reputation 
 even the Presidency did not seem beyond him. He 
 had the enormous advantage of youth over most 
 [226]
 
 MEN WHO CAN RESIST EVERYTHING 
 of his rivals. A Vice-president stands one chance 
 in three and a half of succeeding to the Presidency 
 altogether, it was a dazzling dream so dazzling 
 that Crane began to feel the old regret and long- 
 ing that Fate had not given him a wife like Con- 
 stance Maitland; he was afraid even, in thought, 
 to wish that it might be Constance Maitland. 
 How that woman would shine in an official posi- 
 tion! And then, the other side but there was no 
 other side. Without Sanders's help, he would have 
 a desperate fight before the Legislature; and that 
 outlook which had seemed so rosy when he de- 
 scribed it to Constance Maitland in her drawing- 
 room a few months before, grew dismal and grue- 
 some when examined in parlour number 20 of the 
 Grand Hotel. If defeated for the senatorship, 
 and under the ban of Governor Sanders, his seat, 
 a year hence, would be certainly doubtful, and if 
 the machine ran over him it meant annihilation. 
 So, tempted of the devil, Crane yielded, and prom- 
 ised everything the Governor required. 
 
 As the Governor had found him an uncertain 
 quantity before, there were due precautions taken 
 to keep him in the traces this time, by veiled
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 threats of what would befall him if he kicked them 
 over a second time. Crane understood perfectly 
 well. He also realised that there were two men 
 under his skin one, honest and loving the truth, 
 and the other, craving money and power and con- 
 sideration, tormented with vanity, enslaved by 
 self-love, a fierce and hideous object to contem- 
 plate. But he need not contemplate it; and with 
 this determination he took a friendly cocktail 
 with the Governor, and departed for Circleville. 
 That hint about his wife opened Crane's eyes to 
 the necessity of the outward practice of virtue, and 
 he then determined to compass, as far as in him lay, 
 the whole comprehensive sin of hypocrisy. He 
 would be very attentive to his wife and devoted 
 to his children. He would go to church regularly. 
 He would adopt a Cincinnatus-like mode of life, 
 that out of his small means he might contribute to 
 charity and have it known by the special corre- 
 spondents. In short, he proposed to become that 
 object of man's hate and God's wrath, a hypocrite. 
 
 [228]
 
 Chapter Eleven 
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING OF THE SUMMER- 
 TIME 
 
 Straightway, Crane began a hypocritical mode of 
 life, and deceived everybody in the world except 
 the two most necessary to deceive himself and his 
 wife. 
 
 He did not deceive himself. There was enough 
 of honesty in him to make him loathe himself, 
 while doggedly carrying out the devil's pro- 
 gramme, into which he had entered with Governor 
 Sanders. As he went to church on summer Sun- 
 days, with Annette by his side and the two children 
 trotting soberly in front of them, Crane felt as 
 if a bolt from heaven ought to descend upon him 
 for his treachery to the man who had befriended 
 him. Sitting in the cool, dim church, his head 
 devoutly bowed as if in prayer, he doubted that 
 [229]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 there was a personal God ; for if so, how could He 
 tolerate such blasphemy as a man praying, to be 
 seen of men ; giving, to be published in the news- 
 papers, and saying to his brother, "How is it with 
 thee, my brother?" and then stabbing him in the 
 back? 
 
 At one thing, the evil spirit within him shud- 
 dered and turned away. This was when he had a 
 very friendly letter from Senator Bicknell, say- 
 ing he should be in the neighbourhood of Circle- 
 ville in the next fortnight, and if convenient he 
 would accept Crane's often-urged invitation to stop 
 and spend a day at his house. 
 
 The idea of receiving under his roof the man he 
 had betrayed was too much for Crane. Enough 
 moral sense remained in him to make him shrink 
 from that. He wrote Senator Bicknell a very 
 friendly and even affectionate letter explaining 
 that important business would take him away from 
 home for that week, and expressing the deepest re- 
 gret that he could not have the long-promised visit. 
 And forthwith, on the promised day, Crane made 
 an excuse of business, and went speeding toward 
 the nearest city. He said no word to Annette about 
 [230]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 
 his letter from Senator Bicknell, but some suspi- 
 cion of the actual state of things had crept into her 
 mind. She knew that Crane was under obligations 
 to Senator Bicknell, and a close reading of the 
 newspapers had shown her that Crane and Gov- 
 ernor Sanders were supposed to be mortal enemies. 
 Yet, she knew that the Governor and Crane were in 
 the most friendly communication, while Crane had 
 ceased to mention Senator Bicknell's name. And 
 some anxiety was weighing upon him that she saw 
 plainly. She saw that Crane was prosperous, that 
 he was rising in importance every day, and. yet 
 was miserable. He had grown thin and pale in 
 those few weeks since he had entered into his evil 
 compact. It could not be want of money, because 
 Annette had never known him to be so well sup- 
 plied. She began to suspect some moral lapse on 
 his part, and the thought nearly broke her heart 
 for Julian Crane was the love of her life ; and 
 she loved him in his degradation as profoundly as 
 in the time when she had believed him to be the soul 
 of honour. 
 
 A singular complication came of Senator Bick- 
 nell's letter. He did not get Crane's in reply, and 
 [231]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 on the day he had proposed to be in Circleville he 
 found himself at the little station. There was no 
 one to meet him, but it was easy enough to find the 
 way to Crane's house he was the local great man 
 of Circleville. 
 
 When he reached the house, with its many veran- 
 das, embowered in fine and vigorous elm-trees, the 
 front door was wide open, and looking through the 
 low, wide hall, he could see the garden beyond. 
 There, under a tall lilac hedge, sat Annette in a 
 rustic chair, sewing. On a rustic table before her 
 the children had their books, and took turns read- 
 ing aloud to her. As always, she was simply but 
 freshly and becomingly dressed, and as the green 
 light fell upon her fair hair and her pensive, pretty 
 face, she made a charming picture for any man to 
 contemplate. Senator Bicknell had an aesthetic 
 soul as well as an honest heart, and the pretty scene 
 appealed to him. He walked through the hall, into 
 the trim garden, and, hat in hand, introduced him- 
 self to Annette. 
 
 She rose at once, smiling and blushing, and made 
 him hospitably welcome. She knew nothing of his 
 expected arrival, which convinced Senator Bicknell 
 [232]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 
 that there had been some misunderstanding con- 
 cerning his letter. But the Senator was so pleased 
 with his first impressions that he accepted Annette's 
 invitation to remain and share their one-o'clock 
 dinner an invitation given with palpitations, but 
 so promptly and gracefully accepted that Annette 
 was delighted at her own courage in proposing it. 
 The Senator, seated on a rustic settee, and admir- 
 ing the aspect of things in the house and garden, 
 as well as the mistress and her children, thought 
 himself in luck. He expressed great regret at not 
 seeing Crane, but frankly declared himself very 
 well satisfied with things as they were. 
 
 Emboldened by her success in entertaining the 
 Senator, Annette proposed that she should notify 
 the leading citizens, and invite them to call at five 
 o'clock to pay their respects to him. Senator Bick- 
 nell good-humouredly assented it would be of ad- 
 vantage to Crane, he thought, mistakenly enough 
 and it was worth while obliging a subordinate if 
 that subordinate had a wife as pleasing as Mrs. 
 Crane. 
 
 By the time this was settled it was one o'clock, 
 and the Senator found himself seated at Annette's 
 [233]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 dainty table, with the two children, and being 
 waited on by Annette's one servant, a neat, hard- 
 featured creature, who knew how to cook. 
 
 The Senator was worth millions, had a French 
 chef, and a chronic dyspepsia, but he spoke truly 
 when he told Annette he had not enjoyed a dinner 
 so much in years as the one she gave him. It was 
 very simple, but good, and well served. The chil- 
 dren never opened their mouths except when 
 spoken to. Annette was surprised, as at Constance 
 Maitland's dinner, to find herself altogether at 
 ease, and was conscious that she was making an 
 agreeable impression every moment of the time. 
 To be appreciated gives the most timid confidence ; 
 and it was perfectly evident that this trained 
 man of the world appreciated this woman, as sweet 
 and natural as the wild roses that grew in the road- 
 side hedges. They found much to talk about, and 
 Thorndyke was mentioned, at which Annette over- 
 flowed in praises of him, to which Senator Bicknell 
 
 He was much amused by Annette's impromptu 
 plan of having a reception for him that after- 
 noon, and accused her of aspiring to be a second 
 [ 234 ]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 Madame Roland, but laughingly agreed with her 
 when Annette assured him that it would be worth 
 several votes to Crane in the coming senatorial 
 contest. 
 
 After dinner he was shown to a cool and spot- 
 less chamber, where he had a very refreshing nap 
 and a bath. At five o'clock he was summoned be- 
 low. Annette awaited him in the modest draw- 
 ing-room. She wore a pretty muslin gown, and 
 looked as fresh as a dewdrop. With the assistance 
 of the neighbours, the lower floor was dressed with 
 flowers, and simple refreshments were served upon 
 tables in the large and well-kept garden. 
 
 Annette, taking her stand at the door of the 
 drawing-room with the Senator, received with dig- 
 nity and grace the people who came pouring in 
 the Judge of the County Court, the professional 
 men in the town, the principal of the Circleville 
 High School all accompanied by their ladies, 
 wearing their best silk gowns and very tight kid 
 gloves. Senator Bicknell was affability itself. He 
 was an amiable man, and Annette Crane's virtues 
 and charms were such as appeal peculiarly to men, 
 so that most of them wished to oblige her. He was 
 [235]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 secretly amused at the courage and capability she 
 had shown in organising a political reception for 
 him on such short notice, and determined to help 
 her through with it. By way of showing his good- 
 will, he spoke with enthusiasm of Crane to many 
 persons, and said that he should be pleased if 
 Crane might be his colleague after the first of 
 January. 
 
 At seven o'clock he was obliged to take his 
 train. Before he stepped into the carriage of the 
 Judge, who had asked the honour of driving him 
 to the station, Senator Bicknell expressed to An- 
 nette the most sincere gratitude and pleasure at his 
 visit. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Crane," he whispered to her, "that 
 with a wife who has such masterly capacity for 
 political management as you, my dear Mrs. Crane, 
 he may expect any sort of promotion. If our State 
 is honoured by being awarded the Vice-presidential 
 nomination, I am afraid no one else will be heard 
 of except Mr. Crane, if you take the affair in 
 charge." 
 
 "You are laughing at me," cried Annette, laugh- 
 ing herself, but colouring with pleasure at Senator 
 [236]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 Bicknell's kind manner and flattering words. 
 "Imagine me as a political manager !" 
 
 "My dear lady, the only political managers in 
 the world, among women, are those like yourself, 
 who don't know that they are managing. Good- 
 bye, and a thousand thanks. I have not spent so 
 pleasant a day for a long time. Remember, when 
 you come to Washington, you are to dine with me 
 many times, but I can't make you enjoy your din- 
 ner as much as I enjoyed mine. Regards to 
 Crane" then, stepping into the carriage, the Sen- 
 ator said to the Judge in a voice meant to be heard 
 by those around : 
 
 "Charming woman sweet, well-behaved chil- 
 dren comfortable home our friend Crane is in 
 luck." 
 
 Crane did not return until the next evening, and 
 was greeted by the sensational news of Sena- 
 tor Bicknell's visit. Annette was, of course, 
 full of her achievement in entertaining the Sena- 
 tor. Instead of receiving her account with the 
 pleasure which might naturally have been expect- 
 ed, Crane listened with sombre eyes and a face 
 which grew pale and paler as Annette proceeded 
 [237]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 with the story of the success of her impromptu re- 
 ception. It was indeed a horribly awkward com- 
 plication for Crane, and vastly increased his diffi- 
 culties. His chagrin could not be concealed, and 
 Annette was quickly convinced, to her distress and 
 amazement, that Senator Bicknell's visit was any- 
 thing but pleasant to Crane. 
 
 When this was borne in upon her, she stopped 
 speaking, and involuntarily fixed her clear, accus- 
 ing eyes on her husband. All at once her suspi- 
 cions of the changed relations between Crane and 
 Senator Bicknell, and Crane and Governor San- 
 ders, became a certainty. In a moment of inspira- 
 tion the inspiration of an intelligent honesty 
 the probable state of affairs flashed upon her. She 
 remained silent for a time; they were seated alone 
 at the tea-table, in the garden, and the August 
 sunset was at hand. Crane's countenance grew 
 anxious as Annette watched him. 
 
 "Did the Senator say he had got my letter?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "He expressly said he had not heard from you," 
 replied Annette. "Did you go away from home to 
 avoid the Senator?" 
 
 [238]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 
 It was but a chance shot, but it hit the bull's eye. 
 Crane did not answer the question, but got up and 
 walked to the other end of the garden. They were 
 sitting and talking in the very spot where Annette 
 had so successfully entertained the Senator the 
 afternoon before. 
 
 She could not, of course, know the details, but 
 she knew then that Crane was a traitor, and was 
 pretending a goodwill which he was far from feel- 
 ing. Annette suffered as only a high-minded 
 woman can suffer when the lower man in one she 
 loves reveals itself. But she said nothing. She 
 knew that Crane must work out his own sal- 
 vation, and that she could be of no help to him 
 there. 
 
 And Crane, having a guilty conscience, knew 
 that Annette suspected the game he was playing; 
 and this made him more unhappy but not less 
 guilty than before. 
 
 Annette had told Crane of Constance Maitland's 
 invitation to them, which piqued as much as it 
 gratified him. He knew quite well that but for 
 Annette he would have had no invitation. Later 
 on came a note from Constance repeating the in- 
 [239]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 vitation very cordially, but Annette felt obliged to 
 decline it with all the thanks in the world. 
 
 So the summer passed for those two. 
 
 For Thorndyke the summer was, first, one long 
 anticipation of that visit he was to pay Constance, 
 and then, one long retrospection of it. He had en- 
 joyed every moment of it, although the beginning 
 was inauspicious. When he changed trains at 
 Washington to go into Virginia, whom should he 
 find in the Pullman with him but Mince Pie Mulli- 
 gan, who greeted him effusively. Thorndyke care- 
 fully concealed his destination from Mr. Mulligan, 
 but the junior Senator was by no means so se- 
 cretive. 
 
 "I'll tell you where I'm going," he said, in the 
 friendly juxtaposition of the smoker. "I'm going 
 to a place up in Virginia to see that stunning 
 woman I met in Washington, Miss Maitland. 
 Never saw her but once, but, by Jove, that was 
 enough to make me want to see her again. I've 
 found out where she is spending the summer, and 
 I'm going there just to do a little prospecting." 
 
 Mr. Mulligan had abandoned the violent brogue 
 which he had used on a former occasion, and spoke 
 [240]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 pretty fair English, but his mouth was as wide and 
 his hair was as red as ever. 
 
 Thorndyke, consumed with inward rage, in- 
 quired blandly of Mr. Mulligan: 
 
 "May I ask if you were invited by Miss Maitland 
 to visit her?" 
 
 "Lord, no," responded Mr. Mulligan, cheer- 
 fully. "But I'm just prospecting. I don't know 
 whether I shall like her or not after I know her bet- 
 ter; but I expect to like her. The way she sat 
 down on those two young women snobs added a 
 year to my life, and I'm thinking I gave 'em a good 
 whack or two." 
 
 "I suppose," said Thorndyke, longing to throw 
 Mulligan out of the car-window and under the loco- 
 motive wheels, "you have engaged accommodations 
 in Miss Maitland's neighbourhood?" 
 
 "Never a bit of it. I just found out that Miss 
 Maitland's station was Roseboro' station on this 
 road, and I presume there must be some sort of a 
 hotel within reach, or I can stop at the next 
 town." 
 
 "There are no towns in that part of the county, 
 and Miss Maitland has informed me that there isn't 
 [241]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 a hotel or boarding-house within ten miles," replied 
 Thorndyke, stalking angrily back into the Pull- 
 man. 
 
 The train stopped at Roseboro' on being flagged, 
 and Thorndyke had one of the most delicious mo- 
 ments of his life when he stepped into a smart trap 
 driven by Constance herself, and left Senator Mul- 
 ligan, the man of millions and of pies, stranded 
 at the station, which consisted of the passenger 
 shed and the station-master's house, which had four 
 rooms, in which the station-master with his wife 
 and eleven children lived in much dirt and com- 
 fort. 
 
 Constance, sitting in the trap, looking remark- 
 ably handsome in her summer costume and large 
 black hat, felt a thrill of sympathy for the unfor- 
 tunate Mulligan, standing in the little shed of a 
 station with his luggage piled around him. Not 
 so Thorndyke, who derived acute pleasure from 
 Mulligan's miserable situation. 
 
 " I hope," said Constance to the forlorn Senator, 
 " that you will come over to see me some afternoon 
 while you are at Roseboro'. Malvern is only six 
 miles away." 
 
 [242]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 
 "Thank you," cried Mulligan, at once rising 
 into a mood of enthusiastic optimism, "I'll call early 
 and often." 
 
 "The fellow is a good-natured ruffian, but I 
 hope I'll be out when he calls," was Thorndyke's 
 remark to Constance as they left the sandy road of 
 Roseboro' station and entered the cool and shaded 
 highway which led to Malvern. 
 
 As Constance and Thorndyke drove along the 
 sweet-scented country lanes, crossing streams by 
 rickety bridges and bumping up and down hills, 
 Thorndyke felt himself near Paradise. Constance 
 was so kind to him, so unaffectedly glad to see him. 
 Her country life had freshened up her complexion, 
 and she looked positively girlish, and her high 
 spirits were infectious. She described the house- 
 party Mrs. Willoughby, half a dozen Virginia 
 cousins of different ages and sexes, a French friend 
 and her husband travelling in America, and Cath- 
 cart, the navy man at whose name Thorndyke 
 felt a sensible diminution of his happiness. Con- 
 stance was charmed with Malvern Court, and de- 
 clared it had been the happiest summer of her life 
 almost. 
 
 [243]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 "And when I think of those weary, dreary for- 
 eign watering-places of which I grew so tired, and 
 of those tiresome Swiss hotels, I think I am in 
 Heaven to be once more in my own country among 
 my own kith and kin, and hearing no language but 
 good, honest English." 
 
 "I intended to go to Europe this summer," said 
 Thorndyke, meekly. "I had planned it for two 
 or three years." 
 
 "Why did you not go?" asked Constance, heed- 
 lessly. 
 
 "Because you asked me to visit you," replied 
 Thorndyke, something within him forcing the 
 truth out of him against his will, and then he 
 added, hastily : 
 
 "Forgive me, I'm a perfect brute. I wouldn't 
 blame you in the least if you sent me back north 
 by the next train." 
 
 "Get up, Frolic, you idiot!" cried Constance to 
 her smart cob, and flicking him with the whip. 
 Her face coloured, her eyes shone it was plain 
 she was not displeased. But a horrible suspicion 
 occurred to Thorndyke possibly she was, after 
 all, a thorough-going flirt ! Many of those South- 
 [244]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 ern women are, and can't imagine why a man 
 should object to having a football made of his 
 dearest affections as long as it amuses the lady in 
 the case. 
 
 This gruesome and uncanny thought, together 
 with Cathcart's presence at Malvern, was a huge 
 fly in Thorndyke's ointment, but misery is as much 
 a concomitant of love as joy is, and Thorndyke 
 had his share of miseries. 
 
 The great live oaks were casting long shadows 
 on the large, smooth lawn when Constance drove up 
 to the doors of Malvern Court. It was a spacious 
 brick house with wings, and at the back a four- 
 roomed structure common to Virginia houses, and 
 known as "the office," where the bachelors were 
 lodged. The house-guests were having tea under 
 the trees, where the shadows were long, when Thorn- 
 dyke and Constance joined them. Scipio Afri- 
 canus served the tea, which was iced, and was like 
 water in the desert to travellers. It was handed 
 with much ceremony by Scipio, who had doffed his 
 smart livery, and appeared in a snow-white linen 
 jacket. He was assisted by one of the coloured 
 maids, who now wore the smartest of smart caps 
 [245]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 and the neatest of neat print gowns instead of 
 the short skirt, pink shirtwaist, and picture-hat 
 which had electrified Thorndyke at the Washing- 
 ton station a few weeks before. Constance Mait- 
 land knew precisely when to relax and when to 
 tighten discipline among her staff of negro serv- 
 ants. 
 
 Like all people in a country house, the guests 
 were glad to see some one from the outside world. 
 It was a pleasant and amiable party, and Thorn- 
 dyke enjoyed himself in spite of Cathcart's pres- 
 ence; but Cathcart, being a remarkably pleasant 
 and personable man, everybody except Thorndyke 
 relished his company. 
 
 While they were lingering over tea, a ram- 
 shackly buggy of the prehistoric age of buggies, 
 with an unkempt horse, was seen driving up the 
 winding, shady road which led to the lawn. In 
 the buggy sat no less a person than Senator Mince 
 Pie Mulligan. He had seen himself ignominiously 
 left in the lurch by Thorndyke, but with the same 
 spirit of enterprise which had made him the great- 
 est pie-manufacturer on earth he had investigated 
 his resources, and promptly pursued his object 
 [246]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 with the best means at hand a sure mark of su- 
 periority. 
 
 When he alighted from his ancient buggy, Con- 
 stance advanced to meet him, and greeted him with 
 a cordiality which inspired Mr. Mulligan with ad- 
 miration and hope. He did not know that South- 
 erners in their own habitat meet every guest, how- 
 ever undesirable, with the same overflowing cor- 
 diality, which is reckoned as merely good manners. 
 Senator Mulligan, however, thought this custom 
 of generations a special tribute to himself, and 
 gloated over that cool, supercilious Thorndyke, 
 who had smiled in a superior manner at the Sena- 
 tor's predicament at Roseboro' station. So he re- 
 plied genially to Constance's greeting: 
 
 "As you were good enough to ask me to call, and 
 as I don't know how long I'll be in these parts, I 
 said to myself, 'Faith, I'll pay Miss Maitland a 
 visit this very afternoon.' And here I am with this 
 ould cruelty cart, when I've got a stable full of 
 horses at home, and a Panhard red devil that cost 
 me six thousand dollars to buy and a thousand a 
 year to keep but, like the butterfly, I get there 
 just the same." 
 
 [247]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 Constance, being a clever woman, looked into 
 Michael Mulligan's soul and saw that it was hon- 
 est, according to his lights, and that his bragging 
 was not bragging at all, but an innocent way of 
 mentioning what the pie business had brought 
 him. 
 
 "I am very glad to see you, Senator," she replied, 
 smiling, and then gravely introduced this member 
 of the august Senate of the United States to the 
 group sitting about the tea-table. 
 
 Nobody but Thorndyke and Cathcart took in 
 the situation. The Virginia cousins, to whom po- 
 litical preferment means that the object of it be- 
 longs to one of the first families in his own home, 
 supposed that Mr. Mulligan, although certainly 
 very odd-looking, had a long line of distinguished 
 ancestors, and it was with much cordiality that an 
 ex-Confederate Colonel, grave and suave, with a 
 snow-white moustache and imperial, shook Mike 
 Mulligan's hand, saying: 
 
 "I am pleased, sir, to make your acquaintance, 
 and to bid you welcome upon the soil of old Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 The Frenchman, a retired army officer, and his
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 wife, a thorough-bred French gentlewoman, were 
 equally polite, but they arrived at a much more 
 correct estimate of Senator Mulligan's social status 
 than the ex-Confederate Colonel. As for the Hon- 
 ourable Mike, he started in to enjoy himself in a 
 whole-souled manner, which would commend him to 
 all sincere persons. He drank three glasses of iced 
 tea running, complimented the late President Da- 
 vis and General Lee, declared that he meant to buy 
 up a good part of the State of Virginia, and 
 worked himself up into a whirlwind of enthusiasm 
 over everything he saw. This completely capti- 
 vated all the ex-Confederates present, amazed the 
 French strangers, and amused Thorndyke and 
 Cathcart beyond words. On leaving, Senator Mul- 
 ligan told Constance nothing but the truth when 
 he said that he had never enjoyed an afternoon 
 more, or had found himself among more "conjayn- 
 ial company." 
 
 Then began for Thorndyke a week of rapture, 
 mixed with agonising jealousy; for let no man 
 suppose that his passions have no more power to 
 trouble him after his hair grows scanty and his 
 moustache grows grey. In all those years of sep- 
 [ 24,9 ]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 aration from Constance, the edge of Thorndyke's 
 pain had been dulled, but the ache was still there; 
 and from the April night he had first seen her, 
 until then, he felt himself being steadily and se- 
 curely mastered by that great love of his life as 
 steadily and securely as if he could have offered 
 her his honest and devoted heart. And to be thrown 
 with her daily to spend the bright summer morn- 
 ings in the cool, old drawing-room with Constance, 
 listening to the pleasant, languid talk of people in 
 a country house, the shady afternoons in driving 
 over the rich, green, placid country, sometimes with 
 Constance by his side the deep, blue nights, sitting 
 on the great stone porch, watching the silver moon 
 rise over the distant pine-crowned mountain-peaks, 
 and looking at Constance, in a thin white gown, 
 seeming as young by night as in those sweet Italian 
 nights long past it would have been bliss but for 
 two things. One was that she was as kind to Cath- 
 cart as to himself, and the other was that she was 
 so very kind to him. For since she could not pos- 
 sibly think of marrying him, she could only be 
 amusing herself at his expense. 
 
 Thorndyke was nearly forty-five years old, he 
 [250]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 was a member of Congress, and reckoned a pe- 
 culiarly cool-headed and long-headed man, but 
 he was thereby exempt from the agonies of 
 love. 
 
 As for Senator Mulligan, Thorndyke did not 
 need to recall the frank confession made on the train 
 to know that Mince Pie had speedily made up his 
 mind that Constance was worth the winning, and 
 to go about it with promptness and energy. On 
 the very last afternoon, Thorndyke, disgusted with 
 the goodwill which Constance had shown Cathcart, 
 retired to a rustic summer-house on the lawn, to 
 writhe in secret with jealousy, and incidentally to 
 read the New York newspapers. Presently he saw 
 Constance and Senator Mulligan walking across 
 the sward toward the house. Constance's face was 
 flushed, and she was walking rapidly. Senator 
 Mulligan was talking earnestly to her, and his 
 brogue was more evident than usual, under the 
 stress of emotion. Immediately in front of the 
 summer-house Constance stopped and faced the 
 Senator. 
 
 "I must beg of you," she said, in a clear voice, 
 with a faint ring of indignation in it, "to say no 
 [251]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 more on this subject to me now, or at any other 
 time." 
 
 "Well, I've said about all I had to say," replied 
 Senator Mulligan, warmly. "I asked you to marry 
 me, I did, and I tould you, I did, if you had to lose 
 what money you had because I'm an American, 
 thank God, that I'd make it up to you a dozen times 
 over. I said that, I did, and I didn't desaive you 
 about the senatorship." The brogue by this time 
 was rampant. "The thing was going a-beggin', 
 and the Governor, he sends for me, and he says to 
 me, 'Mike,' says he, 'you'll be nothin' but a stop- 
 gap, and don't get any other notion into your red 
 head but that and ye'll step down and out the 
 first of January,' says he ; 'and don't monkey with 
 the buzz saw,' says he. And I says, says I, 'I 
 won't, Governor, and I'll have my fling at Wash- 
 ington, and I'll take down my Panhard red devil, 
 and go a-scorchin' over the Washington streets, 
 and have the time of my life,' and bedad, I have. 
 And I had no more thought of falling in love and 
 getting married than I have of trying to get up 
 a diligation to present my name to the next Prisi- 
 dential convention. But then I met you, Miss 
 [252]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 Maitland, and I came up here after you, and you've 
 bowled me over, senatorship and all, and I've tould 
 the truth, and not a lie in the bunch, and I've 
 offered to give up your money, and I don't see that 
 I've done anything for you to look at me like Lady 
 Macbeth, and I beg your pardon if I've offinded 
 you." 
 
 During this speech Constance Maitland's heart 
 softened toward Mince Pie Mike. He had only 
 claimed a man's inalienable right, and he had 
 behaved as honourably as in him lay. So she 
 said, with a softening of the voice as well as the 
 heart: 
 
 "I feel sure that all you say is true and I am 
 sorry if I have wounded you but what you ask is 
 not to be thought of for a moment." 
 
 "Well," remarked the Senator, resignedly, "it's 
 a disappointment, it's a great disappointment, but 
 there are other things in life, Miss Maitland. 
 There's the pleasure of helping widows and or- 
 phans, and I swear to you I have done that as well 
 as I could iver since I was a clerk in good ould 
 1 Danny Hogan's corner store, and there's the pleas- 
 ure of managing the primaries and handing over 
 [253]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 the biggest batch of votes for the money of any 
 man in the State 
 
 "Mr. Mulligan !" cried Constance, in horror. 
 
 "Yes, there's no denying of it in some States 
 and there's automobiling and plenty of other clean, 
 dacent pleasures to make up for love. But I tell 
 you, Miss Maitland, there never can be the time, 
 if I'm still single, that you can't be Mrs. Michael 
 Patrick Mulligan, and your money may go to the 
 bow-wows for all I care, and I honour and admire 
 you above all the women I iver knew, I do that. 
 Good-bye. Don't snub the life out of me in Wash- 
 ington if I meet you next winter." 
 
 "I shall not, I promise you good-bye," said 
 Constance, and walking briskly into the summer- 
 house, while Senator Mulligan turned away, she 
 almost walked into Geoffrey Thorndyke's arms. 
 
 "I couldn't help hearing," said Thorndyke, with 
 a burning face. "I couldn't get out it would 
 have been beastly to the poor devil " 
 
 And then both of them suddenly burst into a 
 gale of laughter, nor could they, all that day and 
 evening, meet each other's eyes without laughing 
 mysteriously. 
 
 [254]
 
 IN THE SWEET-DO-NOTHING 
 Thorndyke's visit lasted a week. It was a week 
 of heaven and hell to him. When he went away, 
 Constance Maitland realised that, to accomplish 
 her heart's desire, she would have to do the propos^ 
 ing herself, as Queen Victoria did on a similar 
 occasion. 
 
 [255]
 
 Chapter Twelve 
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST IN POLITICS AND TRUE 
 IN LOVE? 
 
 On the first Monday in December a gloriously 
 bright winter day the flags were run up over the 
 Senate and House wings of the Capitol building. 
 Congress had met once more. 
 
 There were the usual thronging multitudes in the 
 corridors, the usual pleasant buzz of meeting and 
 greeting in cloak and committee rooms, and the 
 cheerfulness and exhilaration of the last session 
 was flamboyant in the present one. 
 
 Among the last members of the House to arrive 
 was Julian Crane. He had come late because he 
 wished to put off as long as possible the meeting 
 with Senator Bicknell. Of course, they must meet 
 early and often, but that did not make Crane take 
 any less pains to postpone, if even for a day, the 
 [256]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 
 sight of the man he had betrayed. But almost the 
 first acquaintance he ran across was the Senator 
 in a group of brother senators who had strolled 
 over to the House side. 
 
 Senator Bicknell greeted Crane with unusual 
 cordiality. In the first place, he really wished to 
 attach Crane to the Bicknell chariot, but he had 
 such agreeable recollections of his August day in 
 Circleville, of Annette and her spotless table, her 
 roast chicken and boiled corn, her sweet, fresh 
 spare bedroom, where he had enjoyed one of the 
 best naps of his life, and her impromptu reception 
 in the afternoon, that he felt an increased kindli- 
 ness for Crane. He showed this by button-holing 
 Crane in the midst of the group of senators, and 
 telling the story of his day in Circleville. He paid 
 Annette many sincere compliments, and declared 
 that if Crane should enter the senatorial contest a 
 year and a half hence, and should defeat him, it 
 would simply be on account of the charming Mrs. 
 Crane. It was not fair to pit a man with such a 
 lovely wife against a hopeless and incurable bach- 
 elor like himself. 
 
 Under other circumstances Crane would have 
 [257]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 been highly gratified, but now it tortured him. 
 He heard once more ringing in his ears Governor 
 Sanders's words, "It is absolutely necessary that 
 Senator Bicknell be not taken into our confidence." 
 To cap the climax, Senator Bicknell said: 
 
 "Be sure and give my warmest regards to Mrs. 
 Crane, and tell her I shall take the first opportu- 
 nity to call on her she is here, I suppose? She 
 mentioned last summer that she was coming on 
 with you." 
 
 "Yes," replied Crane, "we are established for the 
 season" and he gave the name of a comfortable, 
 but not expensive or fashionable, apartment house 
 where they had quarters. 
 
 "And say to her that, although I can't give her 
 a dinner half so good as what she gave me, I 
 shall expect her and you to arrange to dine with 
 me at my house at a very early day. Good morn- 
 ing." 
 
 Crane escaped and went to his seat in the House. 
 While he was contemplating the baseness of his 
 own conduct, Thorndyke came over and spoke to 
 him. 
 
 Thorndyke's first impression of Crane was that 
 [258]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 
 he looked haggard and worn, and Crane's impres- 
 sion of Thorndyke was that he had grown about 
 ten years younger. His greeting to Thorndyke 
 was very cordial, but he was conscious of a strange 
 thing that ever since his bargain with Sanders, 
 the meeting with former friends, men of sterling 
 probity, gave him a vague uneasiness. It seemed 
 to him as if, in duping Senator Bicknell, he was 
 duping every honest man he knew. Thorndyke, 
 too, asked after Mrs. Crane, and it began to dawn 
 upon Crane's mind that Annette had the power, in 
 a remarkable degree, of pleasing men of the world. 
 Still, he thought her not quite good enough for 
 himself, particularly if the brilliant future he 
 planned should materialise as it must and should. 
 
 The proceedings of the day were perfunctory, 
 and it was but little after three o'clock when Thorn- 
 dyke left the House. The afternoon was briskly 
 cold, and the sun glittered from a heaven as blue 
 as June. Just as Thorndyke came out on the plaza 
 he encountered Crane, who would have avoided him, 
 but it was scarcely possible. 
 
 The two men walked down the hill, and toward 
 Thorndyke's old quarters. They talked amicably 
 [259]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 and even intimately, but Thorndyke got a curious 
 impression of reserve from Crane and reserve was 
 the last thing in the world to develop in Julian 
 Crane. As they walked along the streets in the 
 dazzling sun of December in Washington, they 
 were speaking of the great economic questions 
 with which the Congress would have to deal. 
 Thorndyke, as an accomplished lawyer, saw cer- 
 tain difficulties in the way of regulating these mat- 
 ters which Crane did not at first perceive. 
 
 "After all," said Thorndyke, "it comes down to 
 whether either political party will deal honestly 
 with these questions. If they do, a solution will be 
 found, and the whole matter can, in the course of a 
 few years, be properly adjusted." 
 
 "What do you call perfect honesty in politics?" 
 asked Crane, after a moment. 
 
 "That's rather a large proposition," replied 
 Thorndyke, laughing. "I should say, if called 
 upon to give an immediate definition, that perfect 
 honesty in politics means keeping one's hands clean 
 in money matters, and being an outspoken friend 
 or enemy." 
 
 Crane's heart sank at this. He did not know why 
 [260]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 he should have asked such a question, and he was 
 hard hit by Thorndyke's reply. 
 
 "There must be a good, wide margin allowed for 
 offensive partisanship," Thorndyke continued. 
 "That's the trouble with the professors of political 
 economy in colleges they leave human nature out 
 of the equation. There's my boss, Senator Standi- 
 ford. He is as honest as the day as far as money 
 goes, and honest in using his enormous power for 
 the good of the party, and he was born with the 
 notion that his party and the country are inter- 
 changeable terms. He uses dishonest men some- 
 times, but not dishonest methods. It is both 
 shameful and ridiculous that a great State like ours 
 should hand over such vast power to one man as it 
 has to Senator Standiford, but that's not his fault. 
 It is rather to his credit that he has not misused 
 his power. The trouble is, that the people will get 
 accustomed to the system of one-man government, 
 and when Senator Standiford goes hence, the party 
 will choose another dictator, probably neither as 
 honest or as able as he." 
 
 "Senator Standiford is a rich man. Suppose he 
 were poor? What percentage would you allow a 
 [261]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 poor man in political life in his efforts to be hon- 
 est?" 
 
 "I can't figure it out that way," answered Thorn- 
 dyke, "although I ought to know public life from 
 the viewpoint of the poor but honest Congressman. 
 I am not worth ten thousand dollars in the world 
 outside of my Congressional salary. But as the 
 Kentucky colonel said on the stump, 'I am as hon- 
 est as the times will allow.' " 
 
 "Don't you think," persisted Crane, for whom 
 this discussion of honesty in public life had a pow- 
 erful fascination, "that the same man in certain 
 political circumstances would remain honest, while 
 in different circumstances he might succumb to 
 temptation? Take the case of a poor man in poli- 
 tics." 
 
 "I admit that the most desperate venture on 
 earth is for a man to attempt to live by politics. 
 Some men have done it, like Patrick Henry, for ex- 
 ample. But those men are quite beyond compari- 
 son with every-day men. However, Marcus Aure- 
 lius says, 'A man should be upright, he should not 
 be made to be upright.' " 
 
 This saying of Marcus Aurelius troubled Crane. 
 [262]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 He did not fully believe it. He thought that Mar- 
 cus Aurelius, like the professors of political econ- 
 omy in colleges and universities, left out of account 
 the great factor of human nature, which makes a 
 bad man to do good acts, and a good man to do bad 
 acts, and makes a man good at one time, bad at an- 
 other, and both good and bad together. Presently 
 he roused himself and said: 
 
 "It would be a great thing for any public man 
 if he could lead such a life that every word he said 
 or wrote could be printed." 
 
 "Why, have you been writing letters lately?" 
 
 "God knows, no ! I have always had sense 
 enough for that to write as few letters as possi- 
 ble." 
 
 At that moment Crane felt a thrill of satisfaction 
 not one line did Governor Sanders have of his. 
 
 The two men then began to talk about the politi- 
 cal situation generally, and Thorndyke noticed in 
 Crane an exultant spirit, a disposition to brag 
 which had been absent in him at the time of his first 
 rise into prominence, when it might have been 
 expected to develop. The truth was that Crane 
 found the only solace for his moral lapses lay in 
 [263]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 contemplating the splendid prizes which Sanders 
 had dangled before his eyes. He had come to be- 
 lieve that some of these splendid prizes must be 
 his ; it was incredible that he should not receive the 
 price for which he had sold his honour. And as 
 the case always is, whether a man is or is not wholly 
 bad, Crane promised himself at some future time, 
 when he had garnered all the fruits of his wrong- 
 doing, to lead a life of perfect rectitude. 
 
 Then they came to the street corner where their 
 paths diverged, and Thorndyke said at parting : 
 
 "Please give my warmest regards to Mrs. Crane, 
 and tell her I mean to presume upon her past kind- 
 ness to me and call to see her in the evening." 
 
 "Have you seen Miss Maitland?" asked Crane. 
 
 "No," replied Thorndyke, who had just pro- 
 claimed himself a man of truth. He had not, in- 
 deed, seen Constance to speak to her, but the night 
 before, within two hours of his arrival, when he 
 had gone out to smoke his after-dinner cigar, he 
 had sneaked up to her house, and had watched her 
 as she passed to and fro before the lighted windows 
 of the drawing-room. 
 
 Crane went upon his way gloomily, turning over 
 [264]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 in his mind his conversation with Thorndyke, and 
 all the difficulties of his situation, which were accen- 
 tuated by his being in Washington. The strong 
 fancy which Senator Bicknell had taken to An- 
 nette made everything harder. It seemed as if all 
 those things which might be reckoned an unmixed 
 good for an honest man were a burden and a per- 
 plexity to him, Julian Crane. 
 
 Thinking these uncomfortable thoughts, he 
 found himself at the entrance to the big apartment 
 house, and went to his own quarters. 
 
 They were small and cramped, but the locality 
 was good and the outlook pleasant. Annette 
 and the two children met him with smiles. The 
 children had grown acquainted with him and had 
 become fairly fond of him. As for Annette, she 
 had never, in all her married life, so striven to help 
 her husband as in the last few months, when she 
 had seen that he was troubled and suspected that 
 he was engaged in wrong-doing. All her pity, all 
 her loyalty as a wife, had risen within her. She 
 had gradually abandoned the attitude of reserve 
 which she had maintained toward him ever since 
 that first unfortunate experience in Washington 
 [ 265 ]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 so long ago. She reproached herself, as the good 
 always do, for not having been better. Had she 
 given him more of her confidence and sought his 
 more, she might now be in a position to help him, 
 or at least to sympathise with his trouble, what- 
 ever it might be. But her conscience should never 
 upbraid her again for want of sympathy and ten- 
 derness to him. He might tell her of his perplexi- 
 ties, or he might keep them to himself, she would 
 be all tenderness and softness to him. And then the 
 hope was born and lived in her heart, which every 
 neglected wife has, that calamities of the soul as 
 well as the heart might bring her husband once 
 more to her side. For Annette had never ceased to 
 love her husband and loving spells forgiveness 
 with a woman. 
 
 Crane dutifully delivered Senator Bicknell's and 
 Thorndyke's messages, and Annette's eyes sparkled 
 with pleasure. She felt an increase of courage. 
 She thought Crane must have seen that she had 
 been a help, not a hinderance to him, socially and 
 personally, when she had been given a chance, and 
 she meant to show him that she could hold her own 
 in Washington as well as in Circleville. 
 [266]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 
 A week or two passed in all the gay confusion 
 of the beginning of the season in Washington. 
 Thorndyke had watched his chance to call on Con- 
 stance Maitland. Carefully avoiding her usual 
 day at home, he had called on a peculiarly raw and 
 disagreeable afternoon, very late, when he felt sure 
 that she must have returned from her daily drive. 
 He found her in her drawing-room, which was 
 dusky, although it was not yet six o'clock, with a 
 bright fire leaping high and making the charming 
 room bright with its ruddy glow. 
 
 Constance, wrapped in rich dark furs, her cheeks 
 tingling with the fresh cold air without, her eyes 
 sparkling, was standing before the blazing fire. 
 She was unaffectedly glad to see Thorndyke, and 
 he felt that sense of quiet wellbeing which always 
 came upon him when he was with her in her own 
 house. They had much to talk about. Constance 
 took off her furs and the long, rich cloak which 
 enveloped her, and sat down on the deep, inviting 
 sofa, and motioned Thorndyke to her side. 
 
 Among the persons they spoke of were Julian 
 Crane and Annette. Thorndyke volunteered the 
 suggestion that Crane was passing through some 
 [267]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 sort of a crisis he was so changed, so silent where 
 he was formerly talkative, so full of vague exulta- 
 tion and of equally vague depression. Thorndyke 
 had seen Annette and the children. Annette had 
 asked to be remembered to Miss Maitland, and 
 Constance replied that she should call at once to 
 see Mrs. Crane. She was not particularly inter- 
 ested in Julian Crane's crises, except that she said, 
 woman fashion, that he ought to be more attentive 
 to his wife. 
 
 Thorndyke then mentioned that Senator Mulli- 
 gan was in town, at which they both laughed. 
 But soon the conversation got down to the you and 
 I the books each had read, the thoughts each had 
 pondered, the places each had been. Constance 
 had remained continuously at Malvern Court from 
 June until late in November. She had had a suc- 
 cession of house-parties during the summer, but in 
 the golden autumn she had been quite alone. 
 
 "It was the sweetest, the most peaceful life you 
 can imagine," she said, thoughtfully. "All the 
 world was shut out, except Virginia cousins, but I 
 even escaped most of them. All day I was out in the 
 woods and lanes, riding or driving or walking, and 
 [268]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 in the evening, with a wood fire, a book, a piano, 
 and a lamp it was company enough, yet it was 
 solitude itself. It was like Omar's shady tree 
 and loaf of bread and jug of wine and book of 
 verse." 
 
 "And thou," added Thorndyke, under his 
 breath. He was watching her with a silent rapture 
 which possessed him on meeting her after an ab- 
 sence. She surely had the softest and sweetest 
 voice in the world, and those charming tricks of 
 pronunciation she called solitude "solee-tude" and 
 piano "pe-arno," and was quite unconscious of it, 
 and bitterly denied any difference between her 
 speech and Thorndyke's. Constance was conscious 
 of the adoring look in Thorndyke's eyes; she had 
 heard the one suggestive word ; perhaps it was that 
 which caused a happy smile to flicker for a moment 
 on her lips, revealing the faint, elusive dimple in 
 her cheek, but she continued as if she had neither 
 heard, nor seen, nor understood. 
 
 "I have heard about the solitude there is in 
 crowds, but I never could find it so. I am so dread- 
 fully sociable Southern and Creole French, you 
 know that I always find troops of friends and 
 [269]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 acquaintances in a crowd. But in that solitary old 
 country house in the autumn that, if you please, 
 was to be alone." 
 
 "You seem to have a passion for solitude," said 
 Thorndyke, rather crossly. 
 
 "Oh, no, only a taste for it at times. I never 
 contemplated with pleasure a solitary life, and I 
 have a horror of a lonely old age." 
 
 What did she mean ? Was she proposing to him ? 
 Thorndyke was a good deal staggered by this 
 speech from the lady of his secret love. 
 
 The time sped fast with them, and both of them 
 started when a neighbouring clock struck seven. 
 Constance rose at once. 
 
 "I must go and dress for dinner and you 
 you will remain?" 
 
 Such an idea had never entered Thorndyke's 
 brain before, but in half a quarter of a second he 
 had accepted. 
 
 "Of course," said Constance, airily, picking up 
 
 her muff, and putting her bare hands in it, "it's 
 
 very improper for you and me to dine together 
 
 without others, but we have reached that comforta- 
 
 [270]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 
 ble age when we can commit all sorts of improprie- 
 ties in perfect safety. It is a fine thing to grow 
 old." 
 
 "That thought almost reconciles me to the loss 
 of my hair," replied Thorndyke. "You will have 
 to excuse my afternoon clothes, of course, since 
 you have asked me to stay." 
 
 "Certainly. And out of consideration for your 
 feelings, I shall make only a demi-toilette." 
 
 Presently they were seated at a small round 
 table, and Scipio was serving a dainty little dinner. 
 How young they felt! There was no debutante 
 or fledgling youth present to remind them that 
 Time had meddled with their hair and complexions, 
 no elderly persons to claim them as pertaining to 
 middle age. Thorndyke had rarely been more ex- 
 hilarated in his life. There might be a morrow; 
 nothing was changed by these stray hours of hap- 
 piness, but still they were hours of happiness. As 
 for Constance, she was radiant with pleasure, and 
 was at no pains to conceal it. Thorndyke, it is 
 true, always found misery and disappointment 
 waiting for him at his lodgings whenever he re- 
 [271]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 turned from Constance's house; but they could not 
 frighten off those occasional sweet hours which 
 bloomed like snowdrops in a barren and frosted 
 field. 
 
 One of the first visits that Constance paid was 
 to Annette Crane. As Thorndyke had seen anx- 
 iety written all over Crane's personality, so Con- 
 stance saw that Annette was not wholly at ease. 
 But she was unaffectedly glad to see Constance, 
 and soon returned the visit. Crane did not accom- 
 pany her. He was beginning to feel a species of 
 resentment toward Constance. Why, although he 
 had told her of the comforting and sustaining 
 power she had for him, had she chosen to treat 
 him exactly as she treated all other men, except the 
 few whom she chose to favour outrageously? Why, 
 when she showed him any consideration, was An- 
 nette the obvious cause? Self-love was beginning 
 to do for Crane what conscience had failed to do 
 emancipate him from his admiration for a woman 
 other than his wife. 
 
 A day or two after reaching Washington, Crane 
 had left a card for Senator Bicknell. When Sen- 
 ator Bicknell returned the visit, Crane, luckily, was 
 [272]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 not at home, and the Senator paid his call on An- 
 nette and enjoyed it very much. He had said to 
 her at leaving: 
 
 "Remember, Mrs. Crane, you promised to dine 
 with me many times in Washington, so that I may 
 repeat, as far as possible, that pleasant day at Oir- 
 cleville." 
 
 "I am prepared to fulfil my promise," replied 
 Annette, smiling, "but I hope you will give me a 
 better dinner than I gave you." 
 
 "More kickshaws, perhaps, but nothing better. 
 My dear lady, you must remember the difference 
 between a gourmand and a gourmet. One, the 
 gourmand, is a crude product, and would prefer 
 my cook. The gourmet, who is a critic by profes- 
 sion, would certainly prefer yours." 
 
 It was arranged that Annette and Crane should 
 dine with the Senator to meet a large party the 
 next week. If Crane should be found to have an 
 engagement, Annette was to notify the Senator. 
 
 But he had made none. When he returned from 
 
 the House that evening, at six o'clock, Annette 
 
 told him of the Senator's visit and invitation, and, 
 
 as ever since the summer, as soon as Senator Bick- 
 
 [273]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 nell's name was mentioned, a look of guilt and 
 shame came upon Crane's expressive and mobile 
 face. There was, however, no ground for declin- 
 ing, and, besides, had he not agreed to keep on the 
 best possible terms with Senator Bicknell until 
 until the time came to betray him? And as he 
 would be obliged to meet Senator Bicknell socially 
 many times in the two years he would be plot- 
 ting against him, Crane had no object in avoiding 
 him now ; but in meeting him, Crane had the grace 
 to suffer pain. 
 
 On the night of the dinner, Annette, arrayed 
 in her white crepe, was among the prettiest women 
 present. It was a very large dinner, extremely 
 magnificent, and made up of important persons, 
 but Annette Crane was by no means unobserved or 
 unadmired. Crane was forced to see that. She was 
 placed near to Senator Bicknell, and he paid her a 
 degree of kind attention which would have been 
 flattering to any woman. 
 
 When the dinner was over, and the gentlemen 
 
 were about joining the ladies in the superb Louis 
 
 Seize drawing-room, Senator Bicknell whispered 
 
 to Crane as they passed from the Louis Quatorze 
 
 [274]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 dining-room, "Remain half an hour after the oth- 
 ers leave." 
 
 Crane started had the Senator heard any- 
 thing? He reassured himself by remembering that 
 the Senator would not attack him, an invited guest, 
 and in the presence of his wife. But the thought 
 of a private interview with Senator Bicknell on any 
 subject was disquieting to Crane. 
 
 When the last carriage had driven off, and only 
 Crane and Annette remained, Senator Bicknell 
 said: 
 
 "Come into my den; and, as I propose to take 
 Mrs. Crane into my confidence, on account of the 
 extraordinary political capacity she manifested at 
 my visit to Circleville, I shall ask her to let us smoke 
 while I unfold a scheme to you." 
 
 The den was a small, luxurious room, in the Louis 
 Quinze style, and fit to harbour Madame Pompa- 
 dour herself. It was shaded by opalescent lamps, 
 Turkish rugs covered the parquet floor, and pic- 
 tures and bric-a-brac worthy of a palace were to 
 be found there. Some people thought that the Sen- 
 ator's den was one of the causes of the weakening 
 of his political power. Many rural legislators 
 [275]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 reckoned his "fixin's" as wicked, and were only rec- 
 onciled by hearing of the prices paid by the 
 Senator for Percheron horses and Jersey heif- 
 ers. The Senator did not care a rap for either 
 Percherons or Jerseys, and scarcely knew a Per- 
 cheron horse from a Jersey cow, but it was a conces- 
 sion to the rural statesmen, and he wisely reckoned 
 these bucolic luxuries in his political expenses. 
 Seated before a fire of aromatic wood, Senator 
 Bicknell, offering a choice cigar to Crane, and tak- 
 ing one himself, began to unfold his scheme. An- 
 nette, her white gown brought into high relief by 
 a ruby lamp swinging overhead, sat silent and list- 
 ened. She did not, apparently, watch her hus- 
 band's face, but she knew every expression which 
 passed over it, and could have interpreted it, as well 
 as every tone of his voice. 
 
 "To come to the point," said the Senator, bland- 
 ly, "I am one of a number of gentlemen interested 
 in a deal of about two million acres of land in Tex- 
 as. We have had an offer to sell our holdings and 
 we have determined to accept. Part of the pur- 
 chase-money is to be paid in cash, and there is also 
 a transfer of property contemplated for about a 
 [276]
 
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 million of dollars. Our attorneys are in Chicago, 
 but meanwhile we want a man to go down to Texas 
 once in a while and see how things are coming on, 
 and attend to some matters of detail which I will 
 state later on. The whole matter will hardly be 
 settled under a year. We propose to pay a fee of 
 ten thousand dollars and a small commission. I 
 should say there was something like twenty thou- 
 sand dollars in it for the right man. Several, of 
 course, have been suggested, but you know, Mr. 
 Crane, I am like John Adams was about New Eng- 
 land men there never was an office existing or 
 created during John Adams's time that he hadn't 
 a constituent ready for it. So, when the necessity 
 for a man for this work became evident, I suggest- 
 ed I had a constituent, likewise a colleague, in the 
 lower House, who could manage the job if he would, 
 and mentioned your name." 
 
 Twenty thousand dollars! It seemed to Crane 
 an enormous sum. Then he heard Senator Bick- 
 nell's voice continuing : 
 
 "It would oblige you to take a trip to Texas 
 during the Christmas recess, and you would have to 
 spend two or three months down there next sum- 
 [277]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 mer, but I am persuaded we shall reach an early ad- 
 journment, so it would not necessarily interfere 
 with you in any way. Besides, it might be useful 
 to you in other ways, and it would be decidedly use- 
 ful to me. It would show the people in the State 
 that you and I are working well together in har- 
 ness, and God knows I need some assurances of the 
 sort to be given! That scoundrel, Governor San- 
 ders, has been knifing me right and left all over the 
 State, and I look for trouble both at the convention 
 next summer and when I am up for re-election a 
 year and a half from now." 
 
 Crane remained silent a minute or two and grew 
 pale. Senator Bicknell thought he was a little 
 overcome at what was really a very magnificent offer 
 to a man in his situation in life. 
 
 Annette, who had taken in, with perfect intelli- 
 gence, all Senator Bicknell was saying, kept her 
 eyes away from her husband. If he were in league 
 with Governor Sanders 
 
 Crane was not only overcome, he was over- 
 whelmed. The thought came crashing through his 
 brain, "This is the man I am secretly trying to de- 
 stroy." Every word the Senator uttered seemed 
 [278]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 to have the force of a thousand voices. "That 
 scoundrel, Sanders." Yes, Sanders was a scoundrel, 
 but he had never pretended to be a friend of Sen- 
 ator Bicknell's, nor was he indebted to the Senator 
 for anything. Their warfare had been open and 
 above-board, while his oh, God ! Crane could have 
 cried aloud in his torture when he recalled the 
 league with hell into which he had entered. His 
 head was reeling, he heard the Senator's voice afar 
 off; the ruby light falling upon Annette, in her 
 shining white gown, seemed to be a hundred miles 
 away. Yet, with a calm voice, and with only a 
 slight tremor of his hands, Crane answered : 
 
 "I thank you from the bottom of my heart. You 
 have made me a very splendid proposition ; twenty 
 thousand dollars to a rural Congressman is a great 
 deal of money, and as for the confidence you show 
 in me, I feel it more than I can express." 
 
 He was conscious that he was displaying won- 
 derful nerve; when he began to speak he scarcely 
 knew whether he could get through with a single 
 sentence, but he had spoken with tolerable ease and 
 composure. Of course, he must appear as if he 
 would accept ; he could not on the spur of the mo- 
 [279]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 ment devise any plausible refusal; he must have 
 time to think; but it was utterly impossible that 
 he should consider the matter for a moment. 
 He was not yet bad enough for that. If only he had 
 remained honest! For nothing brings home a 
 man's evil-doing to him more than when he sees 
 the result in a concrete form. His wrong-doing 
 comes out of the regions of mind and morals, 
 and becomes a tangible and visible thing, like an 
 incarnate devil. He realises his sin when he receives 
 the wages of sin. 
 
 Annette listened to every note in Crane's voice, 
 and heard there falseness. He was not happy, not 
 grateful for the offer. But she, at least, thanked 
 Senator Bicknell from the bottom of her heart for 
 his kind wish to benefit them. When he finished 
 speaking she leaned toward him and laid her hand 
 on his, while her eyes glowed with a lambent light. 
 
 "I thank you I thank you, not only for my hus- 
 band and myself, but for our little children. It 
 means an education for them many things their 
 father and I have longed that we might give them 
 when they are older, but feared we could not." 
 [280]
 
 WHAT IS IT TO BE HONEST? 
 
 Senator Bicknell raised her hand to his lips and 
 kissed it gallantly. 
 
 "My dear lady," he said, "I am glad to oblige 
 your husband, and I believe he will render a full 
 equivalent for whatever he makes out of this trans- 
 action. And I have frankly told him that I think 
 our co-operation in business will be a good thing 
 for me politically. But the day I spent at your 
 house, the kind hospitality to your husband's 
 friend, the sweetness of your home, the excellent 
 behaviour of your children, quickened very much 
 the interest I felt in Mr. Crane, and it was a factor 
 in my effort to serve him. Come now, Crane," said 
 the Senator, tapping him on the shoulder, "all I 
 ask is that when I am up for re-election, if you 
 choose to contest the election with me, you will 
 please leave Mrs. Crane at home. If ever she enters 
 into the campaign, I am lost." 
 
 "She will enter the campaign, but it will be for 
 you," replied Annette. 
 
 Crane then pulled himself together, and again 
 expressed his appreciation of Senator Bicknell's 
 kindness, and asked when they could meet to go into 
 [281]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 details of the affair a meeting at which Crane was 
 determined to decline the benefits offered him. 
 
 "Oh, some day next week. I'll let you know 
 when I hear from Chicago," replied the Senator, 
 and after a little more desultory talk the Cranes 
 rose to go. 
 
 "I took the liberty of sending your carriage 
 away, and my chauffeur will take you home," said 
 the Senator, mindful of attentions to a pretty and 
 pleasing woman. 
 
 In a little while Annette and Crane were seated 
 in the Senator's automobile, and rushing through 
 the frosty December night toward home. 
 
 [282]
 
 Chapter Thirteen 
 
 WAE AND PEACE 
 
 Crane remained perfectly silent. He did not speak 
 a word from the time they left Senator Bicknell's 
 house until they reached home. Annette said noth- 
 ing to him. The conviction was deepening in her 
 mind that her husband had secretly behaved ill to 
 Senator Bicknell. Crane had revealed unconscious- 
 ly that night many things which Senator Bicknell 
 had not understood, but which Annette understood 
 only too well. The slight agitation and discom- 
 posure which Crane had shown was not the mere 
 shock of a grateful surprise. Annette detected 
 that every word Crane had uttered to Senator Bick- 
 nell was false ; that his apparent acceptance of the 
 offer was false. The money was much much to 
 her ; the loss of it, after it had been held up to her 
 gaze, would be much ; but the loss of Crane's integ- 
 [283]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 rity ah, could that but be preserved, she would 
 go out and dig for him and for her children! 
 She would slave, she would starve, she would do any- 
 thing that any woman ever did, that she might feel 
 her children were the children of an honest man. 
 She remembered there was such a thing as heredity, 
 and she trembled at the thought that, if Crane were 
 really a scoundrel, as Senator Bicknell had said 
 Governor Sanders was, her little black-eyed Roger 
 might be a scoundrel, too, before he died. These 
 thoughts, surging through her mind, kept her 
 silent. 
 
 Crane felt her silence to be ominous as she felt 
 his to be. As he sat dumb, by her side, his agita- 
 tion increased instead of diminishing. On what 
 possible ground could he excuse to Annette, as well 
 as Senator Bicknell, his declination of such an 
 offer? But he could not accept it he was not yet 
 a thorough villain. Had he been a free agent, he 
 would have preferred the splendid vista of power 
 and preferment opened to him by his deal with 
 Sanders to more money even than what was offered 
 him; but he was not a free agent. He had prom- 
 ised Sanders, and if his nerve failed him he would 
 [284]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 be ruined by Sanders politically, and perhaps per- 
 sonally as well. True, Sanders did not have a line 
 of his writing such agreements as theirs are not 
 put on paper nor had he, so far, borrowed a dol- 
 lar from Sanders, although he expected to do so 
 the first of the year when his notes fell due. 
 
 While he was thinking these thoughts, he found 
 himself before the door of the great caravanserai 
 where they lived, and presently he was sitting 
 in their little drawing-room alone at last, and face 
 to face with the strange circumstances which had 
 befallen him. He sat in a great arm-chair drawn 
 up to the embers of the fire. On the table at his 
 elbow a light was burning. He heard Annette go 
 into the children's room and remain five minutes 
 she always said a little prayer above their cribs 
 every night before she slept then she went into 
 her own room. 
 
 She turned on the light by her dressing-table, 
 and sat down to take off her few simple ornaments 
 and the ribbon-bow in her hair. The face that met 
 her gaze in the mirror looked so strange that it 
 frightened her. Yes, like Crane himself, she had 
 been surprised at her own self-control. But she 
 [285]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 knew as well as she knew she was alive that Crane, 
 in some way, had betrayed Senator Bicknell, the 
 man who, after honestly admitting that Crane 
 could serve him, was yet animated by a sincere wish 
 to benefit Crane ; who had given Crane his first polit- 
 ical start in life, and had treated him with unvary- 
 ing kindness ever since. 
 
 The more she thought over what had happened 
 that evening, the more acute became her fear and 
 her pain. She stopped in her employment, and, lean- 
 ing upon her arms, sat motionless for a long time. 
 Suddenly, the distant chiming of a clock told her 
 it was midnight. She roused herself, and then, fol- 
 lowing an influence stronger than herself, went into 
 the next room, where Crane had been going 
 through his agony alone. As she approached him, 
 he raised a pale and conscience-stricken face to 
 hers, but it was quite calm. He had fought the 
 battle out, and there was no longer a conflict within 
 him. 
 
 "Yes," he said, as if continuing out aloud a con- 
 secutive train of thought, "I should be very grate- 
 ful to you I am grateful to you. No doubt, Sen- 
 [286]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 ator Bicknell was influenced very much in what he 
 did by the admiration and respect he has for you. 
 But it only makes it the harder for me." 
 
 "There should be no question of gratitude be- 
 tween you and me," replied Annette, coming closer 
 to him. 
 
 "There is much much. I have not realised 
 until within the last few months how much I really 
 owe you but why do I say months? I might say 
 the last few hours the last few minutes and I 
 have also realised how much more I might have 
 owed you, for I am beginning to think that few 
 women are as well adapted as you are for the wife 
 of a man like me. Not all women would have borne 
 with poverty and seclusion as you have done." 
 
 A deep blush suffused Annette's face. The pov- 
 erty and seclusion had been in a way forced upon 
 her by him, but, being a woman of invincible discre- 
 tion, she did not put her resentment into sarcastic 
 words, or words at all. She stood by him silently, 
 and, seeing that Crane was striving to speak, 
 awaited his words gently, laying her free hand on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 [287]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 At last it came a full confession made in 
 broken words and phrases, but of which Annette 
 understood every word. 
 
 "I could have stood anything but his kindness," 
 said Crane, with a pale face of woe. "That un- 
 nerved me completely. I made up my mind I could 
 not accept the money, and then it occurred to me 
 that you had a right to be consulted, and imme- 
 diately I felt a conviction as loud as a clap of thun- 
 der, as penetrating as lightning, that you would 
 never in the world let me accept that money. Ah, 
 Annette, what a thing it is to have an upright wife ! 
 To feel that however weak and wavering a man 
 may be, that half of his soul, of his heart, of his 
 possessions, the half owner of his children, stands 
 like a rock for truth and honesty ! Thorndyke 
 was saying something to me the other day about 
 a man being upright instead of being made to be 
 upright. I tell you, there are many men who can be 
 made good or bad and I am one of them by 
 their wives. Many a poor wretch to-day is a rascal 
 who might have led an honest and respected life 
 if but he had had a high-minded wife like you. 
 It is you who have saved me, and what a miserable 
 [288]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 return have I made you for all you have done for 
 me!" 
 
 "What you have just said repays me for all, be- 
 cause, you know, I have always loved you better 
 than you cared to know, or than I cared to show 
 during the last few years," Annette answered, in a 
 calm voice. 
 
 Crane rose and opened his arms to her. It was 
 the sweetest moment of their lives. Shameful and 
 dishonourable as Crane's course had been, here was 
 one person who loved him, believed in him, and, oh, 
 wonder of love and faith, still honoured and trusted 
 him! 
 
 After their first rapture of love and forgiveness, 
 action occurred to Annette's practical mind. 
 
 "Well, then," she said, as if a course of conduct 
 had at once been revealed to her, "you must at 
 once withdraw from your agreement with Governor 
 Sanders. Of course, he will do everything he can 
 to defeat you " 
 
 "And he will." 
 
 "And we shall have to go back to Circle ville and 
 begin life over again. But I am sure you can do 
 well at your profession, and, remember, there is as 
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 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 much chance for an ambitious man in law as in 
 politics." 
 
 "Yes, but you can't imagine how the life gets 
 hold of one. It seems like death to me to leave 
 Congress and when I was steadily rising, too 
 and to be driven out ignominiously by a creature 
 like Sanders ! But I must do it ; you would not let 
 me do otherwise." 
 
 "Yes; I would not let you do otherwise. Then 
 you must go to Senator Bicknell and tell him 
 all." 
 
 "Do you think I should? Do you think I 
 
 "Oh, yes. He must know it some time. He must 
 know why you decline this scheme he has arranged 
 to benefit you. You must go to him early to-mor- 
 row morning." 
 
 Crane looked at his watch. 
 
 "It is half-past twelve he always sits up until 
 two or three o'clock in the morning." 
 
 "Then go now." 
 
 "He will think my repentance a mere emotion 
 he will believe that my character was shown in my 
 agreement with Sanders." 
 
 [290]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 "No matter." 
 
 "Yes, no matter." 
 
 Annette gave him his coat and hat and gloves. 
 He turned to kiss her, and instinctively he removed 
 his hat with a respect that approached reverence. 
 This pretty pebble which he had so lightly re- 
 garded had proved to be a jewel of great price. 
 
 Two hours later Crane re-entered the house and 
 went softly to his own rooms. As he noiselessly 
 opened the door of the drawing-room he saw that 
 Annette had fallen asleep in the great chair in 
 which she had found him. She had thrown a fur 
 cape around her bare neck and arms, but it had 
 slipped partly away, leaving her white throat ex- 
 posed. There were traces of tears upon her cheeks, 
 but her face, though mournful, was placid and 
 how young she looked ! It seemed impossible that 
 she should be the mother of two children as old as 
 Roger and Elizabeth. 
 
 As Crane approached her quietly, she stirred, 
 opened her eyes, and sat up, in full possession of 
 her wits. Crane drew a chair up and took both her 
 hands in his. 
 
 "I haven't felt so at ease in my mind since the 
 [291]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 day last summer that I first met Governor Sanders. 
 I have repented and confessed." 
 
 "That is good," said Annette, in a clear voice. 
 
 "I found Senator Bicknell just where I had left 
 him, in his den ; I told him the whole story how I 
 had yielded, because I was poor and ambitious, 
 where a better man would have resisted. I told him 
 there was no fear of my falling away this time; 
 that you would not let me; and if I had kept you 
 with me, and had taken you more into my confi- 
 dence, I believe I should never have entered into this 
 damnable bargain with Sanders. The Senator was 
 staggered at first. I don't believe the slightest idea 
 of my being disloyal to him had entered his head, 
 but as soon as he recovered from the first shock he 
 behaved nobly. I told him that I had not written 
 a line to Sanders, he had not loaned me a penny, 
 although I had expected to call upon him the first 
 of January. Then Senator Bicknell said : 
 
 " 'So, you have not committed any overt act 
 against me?' 
 
 " 'No,' I said, 'but chiefly because the time was 
 not ripe.' 
 
 " 'You have, so far, only agreed to betray me?' 
 [292]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 "I said yes, but that was crime enough. He re- 
 flected a while, and then he held out his hand and 
 said: 
 
 " 'Let bygones be bygones. Sanders will make 
 you pay for this, and that will be punishment 
 enough. But I am ready and willing to believe 
 that, no matter how much you might have agreed 
 to knife me, when the time came you wouldn't have 
 done it. At the first moment we meet in private, 
 at the first hint of kindness on my part, your reso- 
 lution to do me wrong melts away. That must 
 count.' 
 
 " 'And something else,' I said. 'Of course, I 
 can't accept the benefit you thought to confer on 
 me. That would invalidate all.' 
 
 "'What does your wife say to this?' he said. 
 'You remember the offer was made in her presence. 
 Or does she know that you wish to refuse it?' 
 
 " 'My wife would not let me take it if I wished 
 to,' I replied. 'She is a much more high-minded 
 person than I am or ever can be.' 
 
 " 'She must indeed be high-minded,' he said, 
 'and you are right in saying that to accept it 
 would invalidate everything. I am of the opinion 
 [293]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 that your wife has seen clearly in this instance. 
 But' here he took a turn or two up and down the 
 floor 'I don't think it would invalidate my promot- 
 ing your candidacy before the Legislature in Jan- 
 uary. It seems to me now to be the best thing for 
 both of us. The fight with Sanders has got to 
 come, and the sooner the better, so that the field 
 can be cleared for my own fight a year and a half 
 from now. Yes, it is decidedly best. You may re- 
 call I indicated last spring that I would support 
 your senatorial aspirations in certain contingen- 
 cies. These contingencies have come to pass. I 
 doubt if we can save the State to the party with- 
 out joining forces now.' 
 
 "Then I told him that I owed money, and could 
 hardly support the position of a Senator here with 
 the salary, less what I was obliged to pay in in- 
 terest." 
 
 " 'Nonsense,' he said ; 'turn your salary over to 
 your wife; she is a woman of uncommonly sound 
 sense, a good manager that I saw in her house. 
 Of course you can't go into society on less than 
 your salary, but you can live comfortably and re- 
 spectably. And let me tell you, this town is full 
 [294]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 of big houses which caused the Senators who built 
 them to lose their elections. It doesn't hurt a man 
 with his constituents in the least to live simply. 
 Some of the gentlemen from the rural districts 
 have complained bitterly of this little place ' 
 
 "And then, after more talk, everything was set- 
 tled. I wasn't to write to Sanders, of course, but 
 to go and see him. Sanders wouldn't dare to pro- 
 claim what we agreed to do, but he will fight me 
 with every weapon at his command. I shouldn't 
 much care how things went that is, so I feel now 
 except for Senator Bicknell, but every blow at 
 Sanders helps the Senator, and I shall fight for 
 him as long as breath warms my body. When we 
 parted I was much overcome, and I think Senator 
 Bicknell was, too. Coming home, it occurred to me 
 how well you had managed on the pittance I al- 
 lowed you at Circleville." 
 
 "It was not much, but it could hardly be called a 
 pittance," replied Annette, smiling through her 
 tears, for the stress of emotion under which she had 
 suffered had found its natural vent at last, and she 
 was weeping a little. But they were happy tears. 
 Crane had reached the turn in life when it was to 
 [295]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 be determined whether God or the devil should be 
 his master, and he had turned his back on Satan. 
 He took his wife in his arms and kissed her tenderly 
 and reverently. No one knew better then than he 
 the moral beauty, the power to charm, to sustain, 
 to lead forward, of the woman he had not thought 
 worthy to stand by him in Washington. 
 
 The next morning early, Crane started West. 
 He had his fateful interview with Sanders and re- 
 turned to Washington within a week. Sanders's 
 words had been few, but full of meaning. 
 
 "All right," he said. "I don't take any stock in 
 this awakening of conscience business. You think 
 Bicknell can serve you better than I can. Very 
 well. We will see." 
 
 Suddenly, and apparently without volition, 
 Crane's right arm shot out and his open palm 
 struck Sanders's cheek. The Governor, as quick 
 as thought, hit back. He was a brute, but not a 
 coward. Then both men came to their senses, and, 
 hating each other worse than ever, each was 
 ashamed of his violence. 
 
 [296]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 The Governor, taking out his handkerchief, 
 coolly wiped the blood from his nose, and said : 
 
 "I don't care to engage in a fist fight with you. 
 We can settle all our quarrels when the Legislature 
 meets. You will need all your courage then." 
 
 When Crane returned to Washington, he went 
 straight to Senator Bicknell and told him all. 
 
 "All right," replied the Senator, as Governor 
 Sanders had said. "This is my fight now," and 
 straightway the Senator took the midnight train 
 for the State capital to pull off his coat and do 
 yeoman's work for Crane, and incidentally for him- 
 self. 
 
 The month of December was bright and beauti- 
 ful all the way through, and the sunshine lasted 
 into January. Thorndyke thought he had not 
 been so nearly happy for a long time. He saw 
 Constance often, and she was beautifully kind to 
 him. He scarcely went into society at all, and had 
 the hardihood to decline an invitation to one of the 
 Secretary of State's small dinners on the compre- 
 hensive excuse of "a previous engagement," which 
 Mrs. Hill-Smith, who had invited him, did not be- 
 lieve in the least ; and when she had plaintively men- 
 [297]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 tioned the names of various English, French, Rus- 
 sian, Austrian, and German diplomats who were to 
 be present, Thorndyke had replied in a manner 
 which mightily discomposed Mrs. Hill-Smith: 
 
 "Oh, then, you won't miss a stray American or 
 two !" 
 
 If Mrs. Hill-Smith had had her way, she would 
 have missed every American invited. 
 
 Thorndyke saw much of the Cranes and of the 
 children, who showered their favour upon him. He 
 could not but be struck by the new note in Crane 
 something subdued, yet full of hope and he had 
 quite lost that look of harassment and dejection 
 which, on first meeting him, had struck Thorndyke. 
 Crane was normally a lover of fighting, and, al- 
 though Senator Bicknell, for strategic reasons, 
 chose to keep him in Washington while the prelimi- 
 naries to the senatorial fight were raging, yet he 
 delivered some good shots at long range, and it be- 
 gan to look as if he might be elected for the short 
 term in spite of Governor Sanders. The National 
 Committee was not indifferent to this fight, and 
 Senator Bicknell went into it with all his old-time 
 vigour. He worked, ate and drank, waked and 
 [298]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 slept, with members of the Legislature for three 
 weeks before the election came off. It was a stu- 
 pendous battle, and neither side got any odds in 
 the betting. 
 
 During the latter part of the Christmas recess, 
 Thorndyke went north to pay his sister, Elizabeth, 
 a visit. Her first words to him were : 
 
 "Why, Geoffrey, how young you look!" 
 
 And everybody who met him told him he looked 
 young, or looked well, or looked prosperous, and 
 one horny-handed old constituent hazarded the 
 opinion that Mr. Thorndyke was "thinkin' o' git- 
 tin' spliced." It was all because Constance Mait- 
 land had been kind to him. 
 
 On his way back to Washington he found him- 
 self in the same car with James Brentwood Baldwin, 
 Junior, who was coming home to be nursed and 
 taken to Palm Beach after an attack of the chicken- 
 pox. This fifteen-year-old youth was in charge of 
 a valet who attended to him assiduously, and even 
 went into the dining-car with him to see that he ex- 
 ercised due prudence with regard to his diet. This, 
 however, was superfluous, as the scion of the house 
 of Baldwin was the very epitome of prudence, and 
 [299]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 turned away from entrees, sweets, and ices with a 
 degree of virtue which, to Thorndyke, dining at 
 the same table with him, seemed superhuman in a 
 boy of any age. Thorndyke watched the Baldwin 
 boy curiously ; it was one of the most deadly and 
 fascinating phases of the whole newly-rich question 
 to him, how the children of the newly rich were 
 brought up. He observed in the Baldwin boy a total 
 lack of the normal faults and virtues of the normal 
 boy. Young Baldwin eyed Thorndyke at first with 
 suspicion, but Thorndyke, wishing to examine and 
 classify the specimen of a boy before him, inti- 
 mated that he was acquainted with the James 
 Brentwood Baldwins in Washington. Then James, 
 Junior, abandoned something of his hauteur. He 
 acknowledged being the pupil of a school at which 
 Thorndyke happened to know the fees were made 
 puposely so high as to exclude any but the sons of 
 the very rich. They had an Anglican nomencla- 
 ture, a resident chaplain, and the spiritual direction 
 of the masters as well as the pupils was attended to 
 by the Bishop of the diocese the brother of the 
 Secretary of State. All this James, Junior, com- 
 municated while toying with his rice-pudding, and 
 [300]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 turning an eye of stern disapproval at the tutti- 
 frutti ice. 
 
 "And what do you expect to be when you grow 
 up, my lad ?" asked Thorndyke. 
 
 "I shall be a philanthropist," replied James, 
 Junior, with dignity. "I shall try to use my 
 wealth as a means of benefiting others. I am presi- 
 dent of our association for giving Christmas gifts 
 to poor boys, and I like it very much. We, who 
 have superior advantages, should try and extend a 
 helping hand to others less fortunately placed." 
 
 Less fortunately placed! Thorndyke looked at 
 the boy with the deepest commiseration, and pitied 
 the poor children of the rich. 
 
 "You can learn a great deal from a poor boy," 
 said he, presently, watching the boy's solemn, hand- 
 some face. He might have been a hearty, whole- 
 some youngster, this grandson of Danny Hogan's, 
 had he but been given a chance. "The poor boy is 
 the normal boy ; a boy should be generally dirty 
 and noisy; he should occasionally get a lecture 
 from his mother and a licking from his father, and 
 a black eye from some other boy. He must be a 
 fighter. No less a man than Paul Jones has said 
 [301]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 
 that he never saw a liar who would fight, or a fighter 
 who would lie; and he must not only tell the truth 
 himself, but be ready to lick any other boy who tells 
 him a lie, for boys are, to themselves, a law-making 
 body, and must enforce their own laws." 
 
 "That is not the way of the boys at our school," 
 icily replied James Brentwood Baldwin, Junior, 
 rising with dignity and receiving his hat from the 
 hand of his valet. 
 
 The day of Thorndyke's arrival in Washington 
 he was walking along the street in the bright, 
 sunny, early afternoon of winter. He stopped to 
 buy an afternoon newspaper, that he might see how 
 the balloting for Senator was going in Crane's 
 State, when a shout aroused him, and Letty Standi- 
 ford, in a gorgeous crimson automobile, with Sen- 
 ator Mince Pie Mulligan by her side, dashed up to 
 the sidewalk. 
 
 "Mr. Thorndyke," shrieked Letty, playfully 
 pretending she meant to run Thorndyke down. "I 
 have a piece of news for you. Look out, this is my 
 new red devil I don't mean Senator Mulligan, but 
 my auto." 
 
 "I certainly shall look out when you are around 
 [302]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 in that death-dealing machine," replied Thorn- 
 dyke, dodging barely in time to save his legs. 
 "What is your news ?" 
 
 "Just this. Dad gave me his word this morn- 
 ing that he would not be a candidate for re-election 
 next year. I went after the doctors myself, and 
 made them tell me the truth about Dad he's the 
 only father I've got, you know. And they all told 
 me the same thing that if he could slack up work, 
 and retire at the end of his term, he was good for 
 twenty years more, but that if he kept at the grind, 
 his life wasn't worth a pin's purchase. Dad wasn't 
 scared by that, but when I told him that I should 
 die of fright and distress if he went away and left 
 me, the poor old thing weakened, and said he'd de- 
 cline a re-election, and oh, good gracious! He 
 told me not to breathe it to a soul! He actually 
 shook his finger at me when he said it. Oh, heav- 
 ens ! If you or Senator Mulligan give me 
 away " 
 
 "Dad will shake his finger at you again," replied 
 Thorndyke, laughing. Nevertheless, his pulses 
 had started off at a great rate. 
 
 "It's not that it's not that I'm afraid of him 
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 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 but it would break his dear old heart to think 
 I had disobeyed him." 
 
 Letty Standiford, as she said this, was an object 
 for angels to love, in spite of her wild air, her 
 mannish hat and coat, her flying and dishevelled 
 locks. 
 
 "It is safe with me," said Thorndyke, gravely, 
 and Senator Mulligan spoke up: 
 
 "Divil a word will I say about it. I'm too much 
 afraid of th' ould chap and of you, too, Miss 
 Letty." 
 
 "Glad to hear it, Sinitor," replied madcap Letty, 
 viciously mimicking the Senator's unfortunate ac- 
 cent, "and, oh, Mr. Thorndyke, have you heard 
 that Miss Maitland is engaged to Mr. Cathcart, 
 the navy man, who is always hanging around her? 
 It was announced this morning. Good-bye." 
 
 Letty flashed off, with a bicycle policeman after 
 her full tilt. 
 
 Thorndyke was near his lodgings. He did not 
 know how he got there, but presently he found him- 
 self sitting in his arm-chair before the fire. Two 
 hours later, when the maid-servant brought him a 
 letter, he was sitting in the same position. 
 [304]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 The dusk was closing in, but he saw that the 
 address was in Constance Maitland's handwriting. 
 Of course she had written to tell him of her engage- 
 ment it was kind of her so to break his calamity 
 to him. 
 
 The letter lay unopened for half an hour. Then, 
 with a desperate courage, Thorndyke tore open the 
 envelope. It was an invitation to dinner two weeks 
 hence. It was unfeeling of her to do this. It was 
 ignoble to forget that dear, lost past of which she 
 had often spoken to him, and had allowed him 
 freely to speak to her. It was impossible that he 
 should accept ; it was impossible that he should 
 voluntarily meet Constance again, except for one 
 last interview that final leave-taking which is like 
 the last farewell to the dying. And the sooner it 
 was over the better. Thorndyke pulled himself to- 
 gether, and made up his mind to go to Constance 
 at once. 
 
 As he walked along the streets in the sharp air 
 of the January twilight, everything looked un- 
 familiar to him. His interior world was destroyed 
 engulfed. Never more could he know hope or 
 happiness ; for him was only that stolid endurance 
 [305]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 of life which is like a prisoner's endurance of his 
 cell and his shackles. 
 
 When he reached Constance Maitland's door, she 
 was at home, and he walked into the familiar draw- 
 ing-room. She was sitting on the great, deep sofa, 
 with no light but that of the blazing wood fire, al- 
 though it was quite six o'clock. She rose as Thorn- 
 dyke entered and greeted him gaily. Her medita- 
 tions seemed to have been singularly happy. 
 
 Thorndyke sat down on the sofa by her, and, as 
 all men do under stress of feeling, put his pain into 
 the fewest words possible. 
 
 "I heard this afternoon," he said, in a strange, 
 cold voice, "of your engagement to Cathcart." 
 
 "Did you?" replied Constance, smiling brightly. 
 "From whom, pray?" 
 
 "From Miss Standiford." 
 
 "So that crazy Letty Standiford goes about an- 
 nouncing my engagement!" There was a pause, 
 and then Thorndyke said, in the same strange, cold 
 voice : 
 
 "Cathcart is an admirable man." 
 
 "So everybody says," brightly responded Con- 
 stance. "Many persons have assured me of that." 
 [306]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 A longer pause followed. It might be ungen- 
 erous to interject a note of pain into her first hap- 
 piness, but it is human to cry out, to justify one's 
 self, to call attention to the gift, when one has 
 given a heart and a soul. 
 
 "If Cathcart can give you even a part of the for- 
 tune you will lose by marrying him, he is right to 
 ask you. I could give you nothing. And so, 
 although I have loved you for nineteen years, I 
 could not ask you to descend from wealth to pov- 
 erty with me." 
 
 "I shall not lose, perhaps, as much as you think 
 by marrying an American," replied Constance to 
 this, adjusting her draperies in the light of the fire, 
 which played over her face. How bright, how smil- 
 ing she was ! Her dark eyes shone, and the faint 
 dimple in her cheek kept coming and going. "I did 
 not, of course, relish the thought of spending all 
 my life alone," she continued, laughing shameless- 
 ly. "I was very young, you may remember. So 
 I determined to save up all I could of my income. 
 It was easy enough, living, as I did, with a person 
 who was most of the time a helpless invalid. Then, 
 my uncle, von Hesselt, realising the injustice done 
 [307]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 me by my aunt, left in his will a considerable sum 
 of money, which was to be paid me if I lost my 
 aunt's fortune through marrying an American. 
 This was no more than fair, as my aunt left the 
 money to the von Hesselts in case I should marry 
 an American. My lawyers here have assured me 
 that it is an open question whether I could not, 
 after all, marry whom I will, and retain the money, 
 because the terms of the reversion to the von Hes- 
 selts are very obscure, and it might come at last to 
 my aunt's heirs-at-law, of which I am the chief. 
 But I hate publicity and lawsuits and all such 
 things, and as I am still reasonably well off, I con- 
 cluded to spare myself such agonies, and to be sat- 
 isfied with much less than I have now. But it will 
 be enough to give me all I want in any event. I can 
 keep this house, my carriage and servants, and 
 dress well. What more does any one want?" 
 
 As she continued speaking, Thorndyke's agony 
 increased with every word. If only he had known 
 before ! Possibly ah, how vain now was it ! How 
 hopeless, how full of everlasting pain ! 
 
 "But," Constance kept on, "Mr. Cathcart is 
 not the man for whom I should sacrifice even so 
 [308]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 much. He has never hinted that I should marry 
 him. I am sure he does not want me. I cannot 
 imagine how such an absurd report got out." 
 
 Thorndyke felt stunned. He said, after a mo- 
 ment : 
 
 "So you are not engaged to Cathcart?" 
 
 "Certainly not. Have I not just said that he 
 has never asked me to marry him? And that he 
 is not the man for whom I would sacrifice any part 
 of my fortune ?" 
 
 She emphasised the "he," and her words were full 
 of meaning. 
 
 Poor Thorndyke was so dazed, so overwhelmed, 
 that he could do nothing but stare stupidly into 
 Constance's face. The man who really loves and 
 suffers is generally stupid at the supreme moment. 
 And as she looked into his eyes, so full of longing 
 and yet half -despairing, she turned her head aside 
 and held out her hand a little way, and he caught 
 it in his. 
 
 Ten minutes afterward Scipio Africanus poked 
 his head in the door and saw that which made his 
 [309]
 
 DESPOTISM AND DEMOCRACY 
 eyeballs bulge an inch from his head. At the same 
 moment the bell rang sharply. 
 
 Scipio opened the front door, and, announcing 
 that Miss Maitland was at home, showed Julian 
 Crane and Annette into the drawing-room. As 
 they walked briskly to the fireplace, they saw the 
 two persons on the sofa start apart. Thorndyke 
 rose to his feet. Having been accepted, he was once 
 more master of himself and of the situation. Con- 
 stance cowered in the corner of the sofa. 
 
 "Pray excuse us," cried Annette, laughing, 
 blushing, and hesitating. 
 
 "There is nothing to excuse," replied Thorn- 
 dyke, smiling coolly. "Miss Maitland has just 
 promised to marry me. I am sure I don't know 
 why, but I am very much obliged to her all the 
 same." 
 
 Annette reached out and took Thorndyke's hand 
 in hers. 
 
 "I know why," she said, "any woman would 
 know why." 
 
 Crane shook Thorndyke's hand warmly. 
 
 Constance, too, rose, and without a word, but 
 with rapture in her eyes and smile, received 
 [310]
 
 WAR AND PEACE 
 
 Annette's kiss and Crane's cordial grasp of the 
 hand. 
 
 "I suppose," said Annette, "you are too bliss- 
 fully happy to be interested in anything now, but 
 when you come to your senses, I am sure both of 
 you will rejoice with us. We have just had a de- 
 spatch from Senator Bicknell, saying my husband 
 was elected Senator at four o'clock to-day on the 
 fifth ballot." 
 
 And then Crane spoke, with sincerity in his eye 
 and his smile: 
 
 "We came straight to you for sympathy in our 
 good fortune, for which we are wholly indebted to 
 Senator Bicknell. And we find you enjoying the 
 good fortune that befell us ten years ago. Ah, there 
 is no such good fortune on this earth, Thorndyke, 
 as a good wife !" 
 
 THE END 
 
 [311]
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 J5R* 
 
 OCT* 
 
 
 1990 
 
 Form L9-Series 4939
 
 L 006 064 323 6