The Fashionable Adventures of Joshua Craig: A Novel

  CHAPTER XIII

  A MEMORABLE MEETING

  In that administration the man "next" the President was his Secretary ofthe Treasury, John Branch, cold and smooth and able, secreting, in hispale-gray soul, an icy passion for power more relentless than heat everbred. To speak of him as unscrupulous would be like attributing moralquality to a reptile. For him principle did not exist, except as aneccentricity of some strangely-constructed men which might be used tokeep them down. Life presented itself to him as a series of mathematicalproblems, as an examination in mathematics. To pass it meant a diplomaas a success; to fail to pass meant the abysmal disgrace of obscurity.Cheating was permissible, but not to get caught at it. Otherwise Branchwas the most amiable of men; and why should he not have been, hisdigestion being good, his income sufficient, his domestic relationsadmirable, and his reputation for ability growing apace? No onerespected him, no one liked him; but every one admired him as anintellect moving quite unhampered of the restraints of conscience. Inperson he was rather handsome, the weasel type of his face being wellconcealed by fat and by judicious arrangements of mustache andside-whiskers. By profession he was a lawyer, and had been mostsuccessful as adviser to wholesale thieves on depredations bent or insearch of immunity for depredations done. It was incomprehensible to himwhy he was unpopular with the masses. It irritated him that they couldnot appreciate his purely abstract point of view on life; it irritatedhim because his unpopularity with them meant that there were limits, andvery narrow ones, to his ambition.

  It was to John Branch that Madam Bowker applied when she decided thatJoshua Craig must be driven from Washington. She sent for him, and hecame promptly. He liked to talk to her because she was one of the fewwho thoroughly appreciated and sympathized with his ideas of success inlife. Also, he respected her as a personage in Washington, and had it inmind to marry his daughter, as soon as she should be old enough, to oneof her grandnephews.

  "Branch," said the old lady, with an emphatic wave of the ebony staff,"I want that Craig man sent away from Washington."

  "Josh, the joke?" said Branch with a slow, sneering smile that had anacidity in it interesting in one so even as he.

  "That's the man. I want you to rid us of him. He has been payingattention to Margaret, and she is encouraging him."

  "Impossible!" declared Branch. "Margaret is a sensible girl and Josh hasnothing--never will have anything."

  "A mere politician!" declared Madam Bowker. "Like hundreds of othersthat wink in with each administration and wink out with it. He will notsucceed even at his own miserable political game--and, if he did, hewould still be poor as poverty."

  "I don't think you need worry about him and Margaret. I repeat, she issensible--an admirable girl--admirably brought up. She has distinction.She has the right instincts."

  Madam Bowker punctuated each of these compliments with a nod of herhaughty head. "But," said she, "Craig has convinced her that he willamount to something."

  "Ridiculous!" scoffed Branch, with an airy wave of the hand. But therewas in his tone a concealment that set the shrewd old lady furtively towatching him.

  "What do they think of him among the public men?" inquired she.

  "He's laughed at there as everywhere."

  Her vigilance was rewarded; as Branch said that, malignance hissed, everso softly, in his suave voice, and the snake peered furtively from hiscalm, cold eyes. Old Madam Bowker had not lived at Washington's greatgreen tables for the gamblers of ambition all those years withoutlearning the significance of eyes and tone. For one politician to speakthus venomously of another was sure sign that that other was ofconsequence; for John Branch, a very Machiavelli at self-concealment andusually too egotistic to be jealous, thus to speak, and that, withoutbeing able to conceal his venom--"Can it be possible," thought the oldlady, "that this Craig is about to be a somebody?" Aloud she said: "Heis a preposterous creature. The vilest manners I've seen in threegenerations of Washington life. And what vanity, what assumptions! Thefirst time I met him he lectured me as if I were a schoolgirl--lecturedme about the idle, worthless life he said I lead. I decided not torecognize him next time I saw him. Up he came, and without noticing thatI did not speak he poured out such insults that I was answering himbefore I realized it."

  "He certainly is a most exasperating person."

  "So Western! The very worst the West ever sent us. I don't understandhow he happened to get about among decent people. Oh, I remember, it wasGrant Arkwright who did it. Grant picked him up on one of his shootingtrips."

  "He is insufferable," said Branch.

  "You must see that the President gets rid of him. I want it done atonce. I assure you, John, my alarm is not imaginary. Margaret is veryyoung, has a streak of sentimentality in her. Besides, you know how weakthe strongest women are before a determined assault. If the other sexwasn't brought up to have a purely imaginary fear of them I don't knowwhat would become of the world."

  Branch smiled appreciatively but absently. "The same is true of men,"said he. "The few who amount to anything--at least in active life--basetheir calculations on the timidity and folly of their fellows ratherthan upon their own abilities. About Craig--I'd like to oblige you,but--well, you see, there is--there are certain political exigencies--"

  "Nonsense!" interrupted the old lady. "I know the relative importance ofofficials. A mere understrapper like Craig is of no importance."

  "The fact is," said Branch with great reluctance, "the President hastaken a fancy to Craig."

  Branch said it as if he hardly expected to be believed--and he wasn't."To be perfectly frank," he went on, "you know the President, how easilyalarmed he is. He's afraid Craig may, by some crazy turn of this crazygame of politics, develop into a Presidential possibility. Of course,it's quite absurd, but--"

  "The more reason for getting rid of him."

  "The contrary. The President probably reasons that, if Craig has anyelement of danger in him the nearer he keeps him to himself the better.Craig, back in the West, would be free to grow. Here the President cankeep him down if necessary. And I think our friend Stillwater willsucceed in entangling him disastrously in some case sooner or later."There Branch laughed pleasantly, as at the finding of the correctsolution to a puzzling problem in analytics or calculus.

  "What a cowardly, shadow-fighting, shadow-dodging set you men are!"commented Madam Bowker. Though she did not show it, as a man certainlywould, her brain was busy with a wholly different phase of the matterthey were discussing.

  "Isn't Stillwater going to retire?" she asked presently.

  Branch startled. "Where did you hear that?" he demanded.

  The old lady smiled. "There are no secrets in Washington," said she."Who will be his successor?"

  Branch's cold face showed annoyance. "You mustn't speak of it," repliedhe, "but the President is actually thinking of appointing Craig--in casethe vacancy should occur. Of course, I am trying to make him see thefolly of such a proceeding, but--You are right. Men are cowards. Thatinsufferable upstart is actually bullying the President into a state ofterror. Already he has compelled him to prosecute some of our bestfriends out in the Western country, and if the Courts weren't with us--"Branch checked himself abruptly. It was not the first time he had caughthimself yielding to Washington's insidious custom of rank gossip abouteverything and everybody; but it was about his worst offense in thatdirection. "I'm getting to be as leaky as Josh Craig is--as he SEEMS tobe," he muttered, so low, however, that not even her sharp ears caughtit.

  "So it is to be Attorney-General Craig," said the old lady, apparentlyabstracted but in reality catlike in watchfulness, and noting withsecret pleasure Branch's anger at this explicit statement of the triumphof his hated rival.

  "Isn't it frightful?" said Branch. "What is the country coming to?"

  But she had lost interest in the conversation. She rid herself of Branchas speedily as the circumstances permitted. She wished to be alone, torevolve the situation slowly from the new viewpoint which Branch,half-unconsciou
sly and wholly reluctantly, had opened up. She had liveda long time, had occupied a front bench overlooking one of the world'schief arenas of action. And, as she had an acute if narrow mind, she hadlearned to judge intelligently and to note those little signs that are,to the intelligent, the essentials, full of significance. She hadconcealed her amazement from Branch, but amazed she was, less at hisnews of Craig as a personage full of potentiality than at her ownfailure, through the inexcusable, manlike stupidity of personal pique,to discern the real man behind his mannerisms. "No wonder he has pushedso far, so fast," reflected she; for she appreciated that in a man ofaction manners should always be a cloak behind which his real campaignforms. It must be a fitting cloak, it should be a becoming one; Butalways a cloak. "He fools everybody, apparently," thought she. "Theresults of his secret work alarm them; then, along he comes, with hisbraggart, offensive manners, his childish posings, his peacock vanity,and they are lulled into false security. They think what he did was anaccident that will not happen again. Why, he fooled even ME!"

  That is always, with every human being, the supreme test, necessarily.Usually it means nothing. In this case of Cornelia Bowker it meant agreat deal; for Cornelia Bowker was not easily fooled. The few whoappear in the arena of ambition with no game to play, with onlysentiment and principle to further, the few who could easily have fooledher cynical, worldly wisdom could safely be disregarded. She felt it wasthe part of good sense to look the young man over again, to make surethat the new light upon him was not false light. "He may be a mereaccident in spite of his remarkable successes," thought she. "The samenumber sometimes comes a dozen times in succession at roulette." Shesent her handy man, secretary, social manager and organizer, MAITRED'HOTEL, companion, scout, gossip, purveyor of comfort, J. WorthingtonWhitesides, to seek out Craig and to bring him before her forthwith.

  As Mr. Whitesides was a tremendous swell, in dress, in manner and inaccent, Craig was much impressed when he came into his office in theDepartment of Justice. Whitesides' manner, the result of Madam Bowker'spersonal teaching, was one of his chief assets in maintaining andextending her social power. It gave the greatest solemnity and dignityto a summons from her, filled the recipient with pleasure and with awe,prepared him or her to be duly impressed and in a frame of mind suitableto Madam Bowker's purposes.

  "I come from Madam Bowker," he explained to Craig, humbly conscious ofhis own disarray and toiler's unkemptness. "She would be greatly obligedif you will give her a few minutes of your time. She begs you to excusethe informality. She has sent me in her carriage, and it will be a greatsatisfaction to her if you will accompany me."

  Craig's first impulse of snobbish satisfaction was immediately followedby misgivings. Perhaps this was not the formal acceptance of thesituation by the terrible old woman as he had, on the spur, fancied.Perhaps she had sent for him to read him the riot act. Then heremembered that he was himself in doubt as to whether he wished to marrythe young woman. All his doubts came flooding back, and histerrors--for, in some of its aspects, the idea of being married to thisdelicate flower of conventionality and gentle breeding was literally aterror to him. If he went he would be still further committing himself;all Washington would soon know of the journey in the carriage of MadamBowker, the most imposing car of state that appeared in the streets ofthe Capital, a vast, lofty affair, drawn by magnificent horses, thecoachman and footman in costly, quiet livery, high ensconced.

  "No, thanks," said Josh, in his most bustlingly-bounderish manner. "Tellthe old lady I'm up to my neck in work."

  Mr. Whitesides was taken aback, but he was far too polished a gentlemanto show it. "Perhaps later?" he suggested.

  "I've promised Margaret to go out there later. If I get through here intime I'll look in on Mrs. Bowker on the way. But tell her not to wait athome for me."

  Mr. Whitesides bowed, and was glad when the outer air was blowing offhim the odor of this vulgar incident. "For," said he to himself, "thereare some manners so bad that they have a distinct bad smell. He is 'thelimit!' The little Severence must be infernally hard-pressed to think oftaking him on. Poor child! She's devilish interesting. A really handsomebit, and smart, too--excellent ideas about dress. Yet somehow she'sbeen marooned, overlooked, while far worse have been married well.Strange, that sort of thing. Somewhat my own case. I ought to have beenable to get some girl with a bunch, yet I somehow always just failed toconnect--until I got beyond the marrying age. Devilish lucky for me,too. I'm no end better off." And Mr. Whitesides, sitting correctly uponMadam Bowlder's gray silk cushions, reflected complacently upon hisample salary, his carefully built-up and most lucrative commissions, hisprospects for a "smashing-good legacy when her majesty deigns to passaway."

  At four Madam Bowker, angry yet compelled to a certain respect, heardwith satisfaction that Craig had come. "Leave me, Whitesides," said she."I wish to be quite alone with him throughout."

  Thus Craig, entering the great, dim drawing-room, with its panelpaintings and its lofty, beautifully-frescoed ceiling, found himselfalone with her. She was throned upon a large, antique gold chair, ebonyscepter in one hand, the other hand white and young-looking and in finerelief against the black silk of her skirt; she bent upon him a keen,gracious look. Her hazel eyes were bright as a bird's; they had theadvantage over a bird's that they saw--saw everything in addition toseeming to see.

  Looking at him she saw a figure whose surfaces were, indeed, notextraordinarily impressive. Craig's frame was good; that was apparentdespite his clothes. He had powerful shoulders, not narrow, yet neitherwere they of the broad kind that suggest power to the inexpert andweakness and a tendency to lung trouble to the expert. His body was atrifle long for his arms and legs, which were thick and strong, like alion's or a tiger's. He had a fine head, haughtily set; his eyesemphasized the impression of arrogance and force. He had the leader'sbeaklike nose, a handsome form of it, like Alexander's, not likeAttila's. The mouth was the orator's--wide, full and flexible of lips,fluent. It was distinctly not an aristocratic mouth. It suggested commonspeech and common tastes--ruddy tastes--tastes for quantity rather thanfor quality. His skin, his flesh were also plainly not aristocratic;they lacked that fineness of grain, that finish of surface which are gotonly by eating the costly, rare, best and best-prepared food. His hair,a partially disordered mop over-hanging his brow at the middle, gave himfierceness of aspect. The old lady had more than a suspicion that theferocity of that lock of hair and somewhat exaggerated forward thrust ofthe jaw were pose--in part, at least, an effort to look the valiant andrelentless master of men--perhaps concealing a certain amount ofirresolution. Certainly those eyes met hers boldly rather thanfearlessly.

  She extended her hand. He took it, and with an effort gave it thepolitician's squeeze--the squeeze that makes Hiram Hanks and Bill Buttsgrin delightedly and say to each other: "B'gosh, he ain't lost hisaxe-handle grip yet, by a durn sight, has he?--dog-gone him!"

  Madam Bowker did not wince, though she felt like it. Instead shesmiled--a faint, derisive smile that made Craig color uncomfortably.

  "You young man," said she in her cool, high-bred tones, "you wish tomarry my granddaughter."

  Craig was never more afraid nor so impressed in his life. But there wasno upflaming of physical passion here to betray him into yielding beforeher as he had before her granddaughter. "I do not," replied hearrogantly. "Your granddaughter wants to marry me."

  Madam Bowker winced in spite of herself. A very sturdy-appearingspecimen of manhood was this before her; she could understand how hergranddaughter might be physically attracted. But that rude accent, thatcommon mouth, those uncouth clothes, hand-me-downs or near it, thatcheap look about the collar, about the wrists, about the ankles--

  "We are absolutely unsuited to each other--in every way," continuedCraig. "I tell her so. But she won't listen to me. The only reason I'vecome here is to ask you to take a hand at trying to bring her to hersenses."

  The old lady, recovered from her first shock, gazed at him admiringly.He had completely turn
ed her flank, and by a movement as swift as it wasunexpected. If she opposed the engagement he could hail her as an ally,could compel her to contribute to her own granddaughter's publichumiliation. On the other hand, if she accepted the engagement he wouldhave her and Margaret and all the proud Severence family in the positionof humbly seeking alliance with him. Admirable! No wonder Branch wasjealous and the President alarmed. "Your game," said she pleasantly, "isextremely unkempt, but effective. I congratulate you. I owe you anapology for having misjudged you."

  He gave her a shrewd look. "I know little Latin and less Greek," saidhe, "but, 'timeo Danaos dona ferentes.' And I've got no game. I'mtelling you the straight truth, and I want you to help save me fromMargaret and from myself. I love the girl. I honestly don't want to makeher wretched. I need a sock-darner, a wash-counter, a pram-pusher, for awife, as Grant would say, not a dainty piece of lace embroidery. Itwould soon be covered with spots and full of holes from the rough wearI'd give it."

  Madam Bowker laughed heartily. "You are--delicious," said she. "Youstate the exact situation. Only I don't think Rita is quite so fragileas you fancy. Like all persons of common origin, Mr. Craig, youexaggerate human differences. They are not differences of kind, but ofdegree."

  Craig quivered and reddened at "common origin," as Madam Bowker expectedand hoped. She had not felt that she was taking a risk in thus hardilyignoring her own origin; Lard had become to her, as to all Washington,an unreality like a shadowy reminiscence of a possible former sojourn onearth. "I see," pursued she, "that I hurt your vanity by my frankness--"

  "Not at all! Not at all!" blustered Joshua, still angrier--as MadamBowker had calculated.

  "Don't misunderstand me," pursued she tranquilly. "I was simply statinga fact without aspersion. It is the more to your credit that you havebeen able to raise yourself up among us--and so very young! You are notmore than forty, are you?"

  "Thirty-four," said Craig surlily. He began to feel like a cur that isgetting a beating from a hand beyond the reach of its fangs. "I've had ahard life--"

  "So I should judge," thrust the old lady with gentle sympathy. It is notnecessary to jab violently with a red-hot iron in order to make a deepburn.

  "But I am the better for it," continued Craig, eyes flashing and oratorlips in action. "And you and your kind--your granddaughterMargaret--would be the better for having faced--for having to face--therealities of life instead of being pampered in luxury and uselessness."

  "Then why be resentful?" inquired she. "Why not merely pity us? Why thisheat and seeming jealousy?"

  "Because I love your granddaughter," replied Craig, the adroit atdebate. "It pains, it angers me to see a girl who might have been auseful wife, a good mother, trained and set to such base uses."

  The old lady admired his skillful parry. "Let us not discuss that," saidshe. "We look at life from different points of view. No human being cansee beyond his own point of view. Only God sees life as a whole, seeshow its seeming inconsistencies and injustices blend into a harmony.Your mistake--pardon an old woman's criticism of experience uponinexperience--your mistake is that you arrogate to yourself divinewisdom and set up a personal opinion as eternal truth."

  "That is very well said, admirably said," cried Craig. Madam Bowkerwould have been better pleased with the compliment had the tone beenless gracious and less condescending.

  "To return to the main subject," continued she. "Your hesitation aboutmy granddaughter does credit to your manliness and to your sense. I haveknown marriages between people of different station and rank to turn outwell--again--"

  "That's the second or third time you've made that insinuation," burstout Craig. "I must protest against it, in the name of my father andmother, in the name of my country, Mrs. Bowker. It is too ridiculous!Who are you that you talk about rank and station? What is Margaret butthe daughter of a plain human being of a father, a little richer thanmine and so a little nearer opportunities for education? The claims tosuperiority of some of the titled people on the other side are sillyenough when one examines them--the records of knavery and thievery andillegitimacy and insanity. But similar claims over here are laughable ata glance. The reason I hesitate to marry your daughter is not to hercredit, or to her parents' credit--or to yours."

  Madam Bowker was beside herself with rage at these candid insults, flungat her with all Craig's young energy and in his most effective manner;for his crudeness disappeared when he spoke thus, as the blackness androughness of the coal vanish in the furnace heat, transforming it intobeauty and grace of flames.

  "Do I make myself clear?" demanded Craig, his eyes flashing superblyupon her.

  "You certainly do," snapped the old lady, her dignity tottering and avery vulgar kind of human wrath showing uglily in her blazing eyes andtwitching nose and mouth and fingers.

  "Then let us have no more of this caste nonsense," said the young man."Forbid your granddaughter to marry or to see me. Send or take her away.She will thank you a year from now. My thanks will begin from the momentof release."

  "Yes, you have made yourself extremely clear," said Madam Bowker in asuffocating voice. To be thus defied, insulted, outraged, in her ownmagnificent salon, in her own magnificent presence! "You may be sure youwill have no further opportunity to exploit your upstart insolence in myfamily. Any chance you may have had for the alliance you have socunningly sought is at an end." And she waved her ebony scepter indismissal, ringing the bell at the same time.

  Craig drew himself up, bowed coldly and haughtily, made his exit inexcellent style; no prince of the blood, bred to throne rooms, noteacher of etiquette in a fashionable boarding-school could have donebetter.