Ancestors: A Novel
XIII
Mariana cooked the ducks with the skill of the unsung _chef_ she was,and enhanced them with other delicacies for which she alone had a name.Gwynne, faithless to Isabel's crude though honest effort, rose to gayetyand wondered whether California was practising the insidious methods ofthe wife. Colton, absent of eye, disposed of his share of the repast asnegatively as he did most things, and as soon as they had retired to theveranda produced a bag of peanuts from his pocket, without which, heremarked, no meal was complete. Gwynne declined the national delicacy,feeling that diplomacy had its limits, and lit a pipe, wondering how heshould lead his new friend to give him some practical politicalinformation. He detected the guile under that bland, almost vacantexterior, and Colton's prattle about duck-shooting and deer-hunting,although apparently endless, did not divert him for a moment. But he hadless trouble than he had anticipated. Colton's mind seldom roved farfrom politics, and it required little tact to lead him to the trough.
"As I am necessarily in your confidence I will take you voluntarily intomine," he announced, in his clear high pipe. "I don't in my heart care ahang more for the Democratic party than I do for the Republican. But theRepublicans own the State at present, and there's no chance to get yourname up and really do things in that party. They're out for graft, everylast one of them. The chance is on the other side. It's a big chance;for the laboring class, what with unions, and being rotten spoilt witheasy living in this State, is becoming more and more dissatisfied everyday. If they were let alone it would never occur to them they weren'tthe chosen of the Lord; but we--the Democratic party--can't afford tolet them alone, unless we want to go out of business altogether. Theyare just about the only dough we've got to work on, and for the last fewyears we've been systematically sowing the seeds of discontent by meansof the press, metropolitan and local, abusing the rich, the trusts,harping on the segregation of capital by a favored few, to the unjustand illegal impoverishment of the many, painting gaudy pictures of whatthe working-man's lot will be when he gets his rights, emphasizing thatin this State, of all others, man was intended to be happy and shareequally in her abundance. We sail pretty close to anarchy; but they arean ignorant foolish lot, and we keep a tight hand on the reins and willdrive them in a straight line when the time comes. I am qualifying forthe position of district leader hereabouts, although I'm not announcingit from the house-tops. But the present one is getting old, and I'm onthe inside track. I dress in these battered old clothes, that make mylittle wife weep--she'll never have any other cause from me--just toimpress the farmers what a good Democrat I am; not a bit like HyliardWheaton, who is a dude. All he is waiting for is his father's death sothat he can move to San Francisco. But I drive round in a dusty oldbuggy, with candy for the children in my pocket, and chin with thefarmers about the crops and any old thing. When this county turnsDemocratic, as it shall in the next five years--likely as not sooner, wehave so much raw material to work on in these immigrants--I intend to goto Congress, hold on in the House until there is a vacancy in theSenate, and there I'll be for life, and the boss of this State to boot.I can't say I care about the Presidency. It's only a chance that theremay be anything doing while you're in--it's largely luck--and then whenyou're out, if you survive the White House--which most Presidentsdon't--you're as good as dead. I don't care about going abroad as aConsul-General, or even Ambassador, for I wouldn't hold any office underthe United States government that was dependent upon the favor of asmall group in Washington. You're no better than a servant, and younever know where you are. Political enemies at home, liars abroad,somebody with a little more influence, or any low political business,and you're fired without being heard in your own defence. You've got noredress, and may be disgraced for life without ever knowing where youwere hit. None of that for me, although I'd like a big position of thatsort for my wife. But she can cut all the dash she wants as a senator'swife, and I'll wield the big stick. That's where the fun comes in. Ihave a natural turn for politics, and then it's the only road out ofRosewater. The old gentleman is dead set upon my succeeding him in thebank, and he'd never give me a lift, although if I made a hit atanything he'd be so proud it would be easy sailing after. He's not a bitdispleased that I've turned over a few thousands an aunt left me. ButI'm after bigger game than that. She also left me two thousand acres ofland, that look hopeless because there's not so much as a spring onthem, and they're in one of the droughtiest sections in the State--shegot them as a bad debt. Now, just over the border of that ranch is a biglake, and the owner of it won't sell or rent me water rights, thinkingI'll sell out for a song. But he don't know Tom Colton. I'm a member ofthe present legislature--and that isn't the least of the reasons why. Afew hundreds in a few hungry pockets, and we run a snake through thelegislature declaring that lake state property. Then I ditch from thelake, and I am the proud owner of a large tract of valuable irrigatedland. I sell off in small farms, and clean up a hundred thousanddollars. That I'll invest in a Class A building in San Francisco. I'malso in this projected electric railway of Boutts's--would advise you tobuy a block of that stock--I can let you in on the ground floor. Moneyand political power, boss of this State--that's what I'm after--and noidle dream either. I know the ropes, and all I have to do is to hang on.I'll build a house on Connecticut Avenue in Washington, and my wifeshall have dresses four times a year from Paris." He turned to Gwynnewith glowing eyes. "You've barely seen her--and you haven't had a sightof the kids. She's Isabel's great friend. I wonder you haven't beenround. I've got the nicest little shanty you ever saw, and we'd alwaysbe glad to see you."
Gwynne thanked him absently; then, while his guest, dismissing politics,indulged in domestic rhapsodies, relating several anecdotes the while heconsumed another bag of peanuts, Gwynne's brain worked rapidly. Heboiled with discouragement and disgust. The cynical frankness of thisyoung provincial, with his serene confidence in his star, and in hispower to handle the millions he despised, bore a primitive andhumiliating likeness to his younger self: Americanized by the lowerstandards of his country perhaps, but painfully like in its elements.All he could claim, it seemed to him at the moment, was a higherpersonal sense of honesty and honor; and how long would he keep it inthis country? While he was hesitating between taking a possible rivalinto his confidence, and an arrogant desire to announce his reason forcoming to California, without regard to consequences, Colton dropped thesubject of his family, scattered the mass of shells on the floor with asudden sweep of his foot, and tipping his chair back against the wall,produced a large red apple and his pocket-knife.
"I can't say that I like the seamy side of politics," he remarked,absently, as he performed a delicate operation without breaking theskin. "My wife always maintains that I'm the most honest man alive, andI shouldn't wonder if that was the way I really was made. Anyhow, I knowI'd a heap sight rather do a man a good turn than an ill one; but whenhe gets in your way what are you going to do in a country where politicsare machine-made and every cog has to be oiled with graft? I'm thankfulI'll never be forced to accept a bribe--there's a lot of differencebetween giving and taking, and I guess I'll have to do a lot of thefirst. But it's politics or nothing with me, aside from having a naturalgenius for them. I'll never get out of Rosewater otherwise. My father islikely to live for twenty years yet, and I hope to God he will; but Iwant the big game while I'm young. If the country was better I'd be,too, and like my job. But you've got to play the game in yourshirt-sleeves. Kid gloves, and you sit on the fence and watch somebodyelse wallow in after the prizes."
"It seems to me that the best chance for fame and power lies in thatsuperior strength which is allied with honesty. A man who is at the sametime a clever manipulator of men, and whose aim is statesmanship, shouldbe able to reach his goal by a clean road."
Gwynne had been long enough in the United States to blush uneasily as hedelivered these sentiments, and his color deepened as Colton gave alittle snort.
"Can't be done. Not in this State, anyhow. You've been talking toIsabel. She looks l
ike the Pilgrim Fathers and has inherited all theirantiquated notions. Honest, now--_are_ your politics so much better thanours?"
"A long sight. And they are by no means perfect. We have our machine andour compromises, and all the rest of it; and even a few wholly rottenboroughs. Fifty years ago we were blatantly worse than you are to-day.As long as the game lasts, and there are two parties, there must be moreor less chicanery, but we are snow-white compared with the mire of thiscountry. And it is an anomaly I cannot understand. I have now been ayear in the United States, have talked with hundreds of Americans,studied them and their institutions. Few have struck me as personallydishonest--as we interpret the word in England. Human nature in thiscountry, indeed, has at times appeared to me almost elemental, utterlywithout the subtlety that makes for crooked dealing. There is a thousandtimes more petty trickery in Europe; and, with us, more hypocrisy,certainly; but politics we have at least elevated. Here, the best man inprivate life seems to become transformed the moment he enters thepolitical atmosphere, and if he is not a scoundrel, he sails prettyclose to the wind."
"H--m! All you say may be true. I don't agitate my gray matter overproblems. I know what we are, and the work cut out for me if I want tostay on top. I have known reformers. We have lots of spasmodic attemptsat reform right here in this district. When the reform is directed atsome glaring evil, something that makes us uncomfortable, then it goesthrough. When it's directed against politics in general, then thereformer falls so hard he never gets up--unless, to be sure, hescrambles up p. d. q. and trims with the wind. And that, I'm bound tosay, he generally does. We've had our idealists--talk till your mouthwaters. One session in Sacramento generally cures them. When it doesn't,we have no more idea what becomes of them than of an ant that butts inon a procession of other ants. Ever watch ants?"
It was Gwynne's turn to snort.
"I take my boy up on the hills every Sunday afternoon when it is fine,and we watch ants and grasshoppers and birds and all the rest of it. Whydon't you get married? There's nothing like it. I may have some hardhoeing ahead of me, but I always have that cosy pretty home at the endof the day, and the sweetest wife in the world--who doesn't know theRepublican party from the Democrat, and never opens a newspaper. Isabelis too high and mighty. She's a wonderful girl all right, but the lastwoman I'd want for a wife. I know a girl that would just suit you--DollyBoutts. She's as pretty as a peach, and as domestic as Anabel. I'll haveyou both in to supper, as soon as we get a new cook. We've had four thismonth, and my wife warned me I was not to ask you to anything until shewas perfectly satisfied. She's the best housekeeper you ever saw."
Gwynne maintained an infuriated silence. It was some moments before hecould trust himself to articulate. Colton, munching his apple, andtwirling the long spiral of skin he had peeled off without a break,detected nothing unusual in the atmosphere. It was characteristic of himthat he took no interest in his new friend's future. Isabel had told himthat Gwynne had not sufficient income to maintain his rank in England,and had resolved not only to drop his titles, but the name by which hehad so long been known; being averse from notoriety. Colton, who hadbarely recalled the name of Elton Gwynne--he usually skipped thetelegrams unless a war with picturesque details monopolized the foreigncolumns--had been somewhat amused at the precaution, but respected it;he would never have thought of betraying a confidence reposed in thebank. He assumed that Gwynne intended to become a rancher, like so manyother Englishmen, and that he purposed reading law merely as a secondaryoccupation. He could have thought of several more interesting methods ofputting in time; but every one to his taste.
Gwynne spoke finally, and when he did, Colton, whose chair was stilltipped against the wall, sat forward with a square planting of his feet.
"I came to California with one intention only," said Gwynne: "to havethe political career that my elevation to the peerage deprived me of inEngland. I had intended to work with the Democratic party, but I am freeto state that your account of it has turned my stomach. My reasons forselecting it were, partly, that in principle at least it more nearlyapproached the Liberal party in England; partly because of its weaknessin strong men. But if it is as rotten as you say I am afraid it would bea waste of time to qualify for it; I certainly could not work inharmony with it. However, there is an abundance of time for closeobservation. I cannot vote for four years, and if I finally decide infavor of the Republican party, at least we shall not be rivals."
"_Jiminy!_" exclaimed young Colton, ingenuously; but Gwynne could seethe glitter of his eye. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. Not much you don'tgo over to the Republicans! There isn't five cents' worth of choicebetween the two parties when it comes to a square deal on any measureever put up, and this slow wave of reform that's trying to crawl overthe country--against trusts, graft, and the like--is just strong enoughto swamp the Republicans and give us our chance. Rivals! Not a bit ofit. There's room for all, and you're just the man we want. Isabel toldme you were a wonderful speaker--I'd forgotten. That's _just_ what wewant. I can't speak for a cent. There's no one in the district that cancarry a crowd. The boss was wailing over it the other day. You can do alot in the next four years. You'll go to all the conventions and countymeetings with me and make my speeches. I'll introduce you to everybodythat can put you _on_. You've fallen into clover with the judge, becausehis only son, who was practising with him, has had to go to southernCalifornia to live--nerves all broken up. He'll push you all right, andas soon as you have swallowed the California codes you can practise inthe courts by courtesy. Then I'll take you to Sacramento with me nextyear--I'm a senator this term--as my private secretary, and you'll learna lot. Your hair will stand up straight, but never mind. All that willpave the way for whatever office you want to begin with when your papersare ripe. I'll see that it's a good conspicuous town or county office,and the legislature will follow as a matter of course. That will fill inwhile you are waiting a chance for Congress--you must be seven years inthe country for that--nine for the Senate. Only, you must swallow uswhole. You can't make us over. We Democrats are determined to get on topagain and have our chance at the pickings. We'll talk reform, of course.That's where your eloquence will come in, and the more you believe in itwhile you're holding forth about the Republican party robbing the widowand orphan--more particularly the farmer and the laborer--the better.We'll promise the working-man a sort of sugar-coated socialism, but wewon't inspire him with any higher ideals than pecuniary profits, _if youplease_. That would mean content, and the end of the Democratic party.Well, think it over. I must go. My little old woman doesn't like to situp late. Mind you drop in and see her the next time you are in town."
Gwynne rang for his guest's buggy, thanked him for his advice; thenordered his horse and rode about the ranch half the night.