II
SENATOR BULL AND MR. RIDLEY--TRIALS AND TRIBULATIONS OF THE NEWLYFLEDGED MEMBER.
Again on the train, our troubles were over, and we pulled out of thestation amid cheers and yells from hundreds of throats--an odd contrastto the mournful silence of the throng upon our arrival.
In our party were Senators Baker, of Kentucky; Bull, of Montana;Wendell, of Massachusetts; Hammond, of Michigan; Pennypacker, of WestVirginia; and Congressmen Holloway, of Illinois; Manysnifters, ofGeorgia; Van Rensselaer, of New York; a majority of the Kentuckydelegation, Mr. Ridley, Senator Bull's private secretary, and severalnewspaper men.
Senator Bull is seventy, tall and massive. His features are striking--abig nose, heavy, grizzled mustache, bushy brows emphasizing eyes blueand kindly, a wide mouth, tobacco-stained, with a constant movement ofthe jaws--bovine, but shrewdly ruminative. A leonine head of shaggywhite hair crowns the whole. Ridley, the private secretary, is about thesame age. He is a ruddy-cheeked, round-paunched little fellow, scarcelymeasuring up to the Senator's shoulder. The thin fringe of hair aroundhis shining pate gives him the appearance of a jolly friar. He peers atyou through gold-rimmed spectacles, and is quite helpless without them.He has been with Senator Bull for years, serving him faithfully invarious capacities, and is now a partner in the enterprises which havemade the Senator many times a millionaire. The title of "privatesecretary" is one of courtesy merely, and seems to highly amuse the twofriends.
Senator Bull and Sammy Ridley.]
At nightfall we had left the storm behind us, and were speeding over themountains. The sunlight, lingering on the higher peaks, cast greatshadows into the depths beyond. There had been much snow all winter, andthe summits sparkled and shone out dazzlingly, then went pink andcrimson and purple as the radiance slowly faded. The lamps had not beenlighted in the car, and most of us had gathered at the observation end,impressed by the grandeur of it all, when the silence was broken by Mr.Ridley.
"That's a pretty sight, sure! It gives me a kind of solemn feeling allover. The glory up there makes me think of dying, and heaven, andangels, and all that," he said gravely. "That patch of light calls tomind the fellows I know who climb the heights, and when they get nearthe top the sunshine of prosperity, or fame, or notoriety, or whateveryou call it, strikes them and it wilts them, and they can't stand it forlong, so they fall back, and you don't hear of them any more. There'reothers, though, who get up there and fairly bask in it all, walk around,lie down, eat and sleep in it. _They_ can stand it, and, my, what bigshadows they throw!"
"Well, well, well, Sammy Ridley, I never heard you talk like thatbefore," said Senator Bull; "it must have been that funeral to-day. Goton your nerves, eh? Some folks are affected like that. Come away fromthat window, boy, and get back to earth again." Thus urged, Mr. Ridleygot back to earth again, and took a drink of generous size. Several ofthe delegation joined him. The movement seemed a popular one.
The conversation then turned to the deceased, his many good qualities,his probable successor in the Senate, and the bearing his death wouldhave upon the political situation in Kentucky.
"We will miss him in the Senate," said Senator Wendell; "we will misshis wise counsel, the broad statesmanlike views, and the kindlypersonality that endeared him to us all. Thurlow was a great man, andthe State of Kentucky will no doubt erect a fitting memorial."
"Yes," said Mr. Ridley, "I suppose they will. They ought to. It may besome consolation to the family anyhow. But it is an empty sort of thing,after all, when you come to think of it. A man's life and actions arehis best monument; those who loved him will never forget him, hisenemies will be sorry they spoke, and there will be something _more_than appropriate cut on his tombstone--that's certainly all a man shouldwant. What's the use of waiting for a fellow to die before immortalizinghim in marble or bronze? It is small satisfaction to him personally. Whynot put up a statue while he is living, and let him have the pleasure ofwalking past it with his wife and children on a fine Sunday afternoonwhen all the folks are out?"
"There is a rich vein of truth in what you say, Sammy," said SenatorBull; "but you are alive and well, and it is almost impossible for youto take a dead man's view of the situation."
"I don't know but what you are right, Senator," observed Mr. Ridleythoughtfully, and the group relapsed into silence.
"You are a Southern man, I believe, Mr. Ridley," said Representative VanRensselaer a few minutes later, as they touched glasses.
"I _was_ one, sir, very much of one; that's why I am limping around now.I was in the Confederate Army, up to the fall of sixty-three, and then Iwas taken prisoner."
"So you have had a taste of Union prisons, eh?" asked Senator Baker, whospoke feelingly--his "Recollections of Johnson's Island" had just madeits appearance.
"Just a leetle might of a taste, Senator; nothing like your experience,though. You see, it was this way with me. I was captured by a prettygood sort of a fellow--a big, husky, soft-hearted chap who wouldn't hurta flea. That's him over there," pointing to Senator Bull, "and he hasheld me prisoner ever since. He ran up against me at Chickamauga."
"Well?" said Senator Baker expectantly.
"Tell them the whole story, Sammy," said Senator Bull, as several of theparty drew their chairs up closer to the private secretary; "tell themthe whole story; it will kill time, anyway."
"Yes," continued Mr. Ridley, "I was taken prisoner, and it all came ofmy foolishness and scorn for the enemy. We boys of the --th Arkansasthought any Johnny Reb could whip five Yanks, and it made us kind ofcareless-like, I reckon. I was a raw country lad when the war broke out,as tough a specimen as ever Jefferson County turned loose on theunsuspecting public, but I wasn't much worse than the rest of the boyswho loafed around Todd's livery stable swapping lies, chawing tobacco,and setting the nation to rights. We were all full of fight when theSumter news came, and anxious to get in it; and I saw a heap of it, too,before I made the acquaintance of Nathan Bull.
"There was some lively skirmishing on the morning of Septembertwentieth, sixty-three, before the armies got together in earnest. Itwas real comical to see the boys tearing up their love-letters andplaying-cards just before going into battle. The roads and fields werespeckled with the scraps just like a snowfall on the stage, as I reckonall of you have seen in plays like 'Alone in London,' and the 'Banker'sDaughter.' It was in one of those preliminary set-tos that somehow mycompany strayed away, and left me up in the woods with a bullet in myleg. I was looking around for some place where I could lie down andnurse myself a bit, and at the same time keep clear of the shells andother things flying around. The air was full of them--making a noiselike 'Whar-izz-yer?' 'Whar-izz-yer?' Haven't you often heard that sound,Senator? Some poor devil hears it once _too_ often, every now and then,doesn't he?
"It was very hot and dusty, and I was plumb crazy for water. Somehow Imanaged to work my way out to a big clear space on the side of the hill.The brush and weeds were up to your neck. At the foot of the hill was apiece of marshy land where there had once been a spring. It had longsince dried up, but there were patches of greenish water here and there.I threw myself on the ground, and my, how good that nasty-looking watertasted! Then I bathed my face and hands in it. I heard a man over to myright shout out that General Hood had been killed; and in a minute or sotwo of our officers dashed out of the timber, coming my way, riding fordear life, and nearly trampling me. Meanwhile, the battle seemed to beraging all around me. Most of the heavy fighting that day was done inthe woods, and the losses were big on both sides. Well, I dragged myselfto a little clump of sassafras, not caring much whether I lived or died,I was that played out, and my leg burning and stinging just as though itwas being touched up with a red-hot poker. I had been there aboutfifteen minutes when a blue-coat rose up in front of me--right out ofthe ground it seemed--and says, very fierce, 'You're my prisoner!' Hewas a young fellow, about my age, and didn't look at all dangerous. Ijust wished that leg of mine had been all right, I would have given himhis money's worth, I tel
l you! But it wasn't any use. I couldn't stirfor the misery.
"'You're my prisoner,' he says again, louder'n before.
"'All right,' says I, 'I'm willing,' seeing there wasn't anything elseto say, and putting a free and easy face on it.
"'Get up, then, and come along with me,' says he. I pointed to my leg,and tried to grin. He saw the curious way it was lying--all twistedup--and the big red splotch on my trousers, and says, as if impartinginformation, 'You're hurt, man, badly hurt. Keep perfectly still,' whichseemed to be unnecessary, as that was the onliest thing I could doanyhow. 'I'll get you out of this. Now, brace up,' and he knelt down,and held out his canteen. I tried to take it, but the effort was toomuch for me. 'Poor chap, he's gone,' I heard him say, and then I fadedaway. When I came to--a minute later it seemed to me--I was in a Yankeehospital; a big tent full of men groaning and dying, and doctors runningthis way and that with bottles, and bandages, and knives; and thecussing, and the screaming, and the smells! It makes me sick to think ofit, even now. It was hell! I know you don't want to hear about the timeI spent there, and in another place like it, tossing and groaningthrough the long days and nights; and when I got nearly well again,about my life in prison, and my parole. Nathan fixed that, and I walkedout a free man, limping a little, just as I've done ever since. Nathanhadn't forgotten the Reb he had taken prisoner, and when I went back toPine Bluff, poorer'n a rat, and no prospects to speak of, he gave me mystart in life. He sent me with a letter to his folks in Illinois, andwhen I got there they gave me work to do, and treated me like one oftheir own. They certainly were white to me. When Nathan came home afterthe war, he cal'lated that Illinois was too far east for him, so after afew years we packed up our duds, and 'migrated out to Montana. Therewe've been ever since. That's my story, and it ain't a very startlingone after all, is it?"
"And it is true--every word of it," said Senator Bull warmly. "Sammy hasstuck by me through thick and thin. I don't believe I could have madeout without him. As a mine boss, store keeper, deputy sheriff, andIndian fighter, we swear by him out our way. There is a fellow,gentlemen, who calls a spade a spade, and oftener than not a _damned_spade!"
"Don't take my character away, Nathan," expostulated Mr. Ridley humbly;"give me a show. I'm an old man now, and all I've got left is my goodname, and a little something in the savings bank. Don't be hard on me."
"Sammy," continued the Senator, unnoticing, "could have gone to Congressif he had cared to. The Democrats were after him only year before last.Their man won out hands down. Sammy declined the nomination. And that'sthe only thing I have against Sammy Ridley. He is a Democrat. It's bornin him, just as some folks inherit a taste for liquor, and others comeinto the world plumb crazy, and are satisfied to stay that way all theirlives. However, it is not as bad as it seems. They do say out in ourcountry that the firm of 'Bull and Ridley' is bound to get there,because when the Republican party is in the saddle, and there's anythingto be had, it's 'Bull and Ridley,' and when the Democrats are on top,it's 'Ridley and Bull,' and when the Populists come in we are going outof business. So there may be some truth in it after all. What say you,Sammy boy?" Mr. Ridley nodded gravely. "In Washington Sammy is invitedeverywhere, but society is not his strong point. He won't get in theswim."
"I'd rather not be 'in the swim' than swim in dirty water," said theprivate secretary brusquely. "But speaking of the Senator; _there_,friends, is certainly an all-around heavy-weight."
"Sammy, Sammy," said the Senator reproachfully. "I see you are gettingback at me. I didn't think it of you. No bouquets, if you please. As amatter of fact, gentlemen, I feel that I am growing beautifully lessevery day; I have noticed it ever since I came to Washington. I haven'tbeen in the Senate long enough to amount to anything, if I ever do. Wenew people are only in demand when there is a vote to be taken. We areput on minor committees, and are thankful for any crumbs that fall fromthe great man's table. I am a very small spar in the ship of state. Ittakes all the conceit out of a fellow when he finds how little heamounts to in Washington. He leaves his own part of the world a giant,puffed up with pride and importance; but the shrinking process begins assoon as the train rolls out of the home depot. It comes on like anattack of the ague--you are first hot, then cold, then colder still. Youshiver and shake----"
"For drinks?" murmured one of the newspaper men absently.
"Well--yes," replied the Senator, smiling. "I hadn't thought of that.Very neatly put. Quite true. And, as I say, he shivers and shakes--fordrinks--loses, and loses--pays for them, and by the time he reachesWashington he and his pocket-book are several sizes below normal."
The humble attitude of this, one of America's wealthiest and mostinfluential men, was edifying but scarcely convincing. The newspaper menlooked at one another dubiously. Perhaps, they thought, when theSenator's magnificent house in the West End was completed, and his wifeand daughters came over from Paris, the poor fellow would not be solonely and neglected. He was a fine man, and it seemed too bad that heshould be so side-tracked.
"Quite true, Senator," agreed Representative Holloway, "and matters areeven worse in the House. There are more of us there, and the mereindividual is more dwarf-like than over in the Senate. We are treatedlike a lot of naughty school-boys, and when we meekly beg leave 'tospeak out in meetin'' we are practically told to shut up and sit down.The new comer is the victim of much quiet hazing on the part of hiscolleagues,--ably aided and abetted by the Speaker,--but he soon learnsthe ropes, and quickly effaces himself. He reserves his babble for thecloak-room and hotel lobby; yet, to many of his constituents, he isstill a great man. There is no sadder sight in the world than thenewly-fledged Congressman in the throes of his maiden speech, deliveredto a half-filled House, busily reading the papers, talking, writing, orabsorbed in thought. An official stenographer, right under his nose,wearily jots down the effort, and the real audience consists of a fewbored friends in the galleries who smile uneasily now and then, andwonder what it is all about, and how long the blamed thing is going tolast. Anyway, he gets it in the Record for free distribution tothousands of constituents, who read it, perhaps, and try to imagine why'Applause' is tagged on to the finish."
"A gloomy picture, but not overdrawn," sighed one of the Kentuckydelegation. "Here's looking at you, Holloway," he added, morecheerfully, "here's looking at you."