Elder Conklin by Frank Harris (rom com books to read TXT) đ
- Author: Frank Harris
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âCan anything be done now?â
The steadiness of the tone, the resolve in his face, excited a certain curiosity. Shrugging his shoulders, Simpson replied:
âWeâve not got a candidate. Itâs too late to get the party together. New ticketsâd have to be printed. Iââ
âWill you accept the candidature?â Reading the man at once, Roberts turned to the others: âGentlemen, I hope some one will second me; I nominate Mr. Simpson as Mayor, and propose that his name should be substituted for that of Mr. Hutchings. To show that Iâm in earnest Iâll contribute five hundred dollars towards the expense of printing the tickets.â
The Professorâs offer of money seemed to exercise a magical influence upon the crowd; the loud tones, the provocative rudeness of speech and bearing, disappeared at once; the men began to show him the respect of attention, and Mr. Simpson was even quicker than the rest in changing his attitudeâperhaps because he hoped to gain more than they did.
âI had no idee,â he began, âbut if the Committee thinks I oughter run Iâve no objection. I hainât ever cared for office, but Iâm a party-man, anâ what the party wants me to do Iâll do every time. Iâm a Democrat right through. I guess Lawyer Hutchinâs has gone back on us, but thatâs not your fault, Professor, and five hundred dollarsâanâ your work will do a pile. The folk all like you anâârespect you anâââ
Roberts looked at the man; his offer had been a movement of indignant contempt, and yet it had succeeded. He could have laughed; the key to the enigma was in his hands; these men answered to the motive of self-interest as a ship answers to the helm, and yetâhow revolting it all was! The next moment he again banished reflection.
âIâll go and get the money, and return as soon as possible. In the meantime, perhaps you, Mr. Simpson, will see that the printing is begun without delay. Then if youâll tell us what polling-stations need superintendence, my friends and I will do our best.â
The appeal found an immediate responseâin a few minutes order and energetic work had taken the place of the former angry excitement and recrimination.
To Professor Roberts the remainder of the day was one whirl of restless labour; he hastened from one polling-station to another, and when the round was completed drove to the Central Rooms, where questions had to be answered, and new arrangements made without time for thought. Then he was off again on his hurried round as canvasser. One incident, however, made a definite impression upon him. Returning for the second or third time to the Central Rooms he found himself in a crowd of Irish labourers who had come in deference to priestly bidding to record their votes. Mr. Hutchingsâ retirement had excited their native suspiciousness; they felt that they had been betrayed, and yet the peremptory orders they had received must be followed. The satisfaction of revolt being denied to them, their anger became dangerous. Professor Roberts faced them quietly; he soon saw that they were sincere, or were playing the part of sincerity; he therefore spoke for the cause, for the party to which they belonged; surely they wouldnât abandon the struggle because a leader had deserted them! His words and manner; his appeal to their combativeness; his earnestness and good temper were successful. The storm of invective gradually subsided, and although one or two, for the sake of a row, sought to insult him, they did not go to extremes in face of the resolute disapprobation of the American party-leaders. Loyalty to their shibboleth was beginning to draw them, still grumbling and making use of expressive imprecations, on the way to the nearest polling-station, when one of their leaders drew Professor Roberts aside, and asked him:
âAre the bhoys to have nothinâ for their throuble? Half a day theyâll lose, so they willâa dollar each now would be no more than fairââ
The Professor shook his head; he was not rich, he said, and had already spent more money in the contest than he could afford.
âBe gob, itâs poor worruk this talkinâ anâ votinâ for us that gets nothinâ by itââthe phrase stuck in his memory as illustrating the paltry baseness of the whole affair. It was with a sense of relief that he threw himself again into the turmoil that served to deaden thought. As the day wore towards evening he became conscious of fatigue, a weariness that was not of the body alone, but of the head and heart. After the closing of the polls he returned to the Central Rooms. They were filled with an enthusiastic crowd, most of whom professed to believe that the Democratic party had won all along the line. Roberts found it hard to bear their self-gratulation and the exuberance of their triumph, but when Simpson began to take the liberties of comradeship with him, the cup ran over. He cut the man short with a formally polite phrase, and betook himself to his house. He would not think even of May; her image brought him face to face with her father; and he wanted rest.
In the morning the Professor awoke with a feeling of utter depression. Before he opened the paper he was sure that his hopelessness had been justified. He was rightâGulmore had carried his whole ticket, and Simpson had been beaten by a majority of more than a thousand. The Democratic organ did not scruple to ascribe the defeat to the fact that Lawyer Hutchings had sold his party. The simulated indignation of the journalist found expression in phrases which caricatured the simplicity of sincere condemnation. âNever did shameless corruptionâŠ.â Roberts could not read the stuff. Yet the feigned passion and tawdry rhetoric in some way stirred up his bile; he would see Hutchings andâbut if he unpacked his heartâs bitterness upon her father, he would hurt May. He must restrain himself; Hutchings would understand from his manner, and May would be sympatheticâas she always was.
Another thought exasperated him afresh. His idealism had made him ridiculous in the eyes of the townsfolk. He had spent money he could ill spare in a hopeless cause, which was not even a worthy one. And now everybody was laughing at him or sneeringâhe grew hot with shame. That his motives were honourable only heightened the ludicrousness of his action: it seemed as if he had made a fool of himself. He almost wished that he had left the Democrats to their own devices. But no! he had done the right, and that was the main point. The sense of failure, however, robbed him of confidence in regard to the future. How should he act? Since high motives were ineffectual, Quixotic, ought he to discard them and come down to the ordinary level? âTwould be better not to live at all. The half-life of a student, a teacher, dwelling apart from the world, would be preferable to such degradation; butâ-
The situation appeared to him to be so difficult that as soon as he had taken his breakfast he went out for a walk away from the town in order to avoid importunate visits, and to decide upon a course of conduct. The air and exercise invigorated him; the peace and solitude of the prairie, the beauty of earth and sky, the unconsciousness of nature consoled him, reduced his troubles to relative unimportance, and allowed him to regain his equanimity.
Even his ideas in regard to Hutchings underwent a change. After all it was not his part to condemn; his indignation owed its heat to baffled egotism and paltry vanity. When the personal element was abstracted from the causes of his vexation, what remained? Were Hutchings a figure in history, would he judge him with the same intolerance? No; weakness, corruptibility even, would then excite no harsher feeling than a sort of amused contempt. The reflection mitigated his anger. He began to take an intellectual pleasure in the good-humoured acceptance of the wrong inflicted upon him. Plato was right, it was well to suffer injustice without desiring to retaliate. He had yet to learn that just as oil only smoothes the surface of waves, so reason has merely a superficial effect upon character.
Early in the afternoon he made his way to Mayâs home. According to his habit he passed by the servant-girl and entered the studyâto find himself face to face with the lawyer.
The shock of disappointment and a certain latent antagonism caused him to speak with a directness which was in itself discourteous.
âIs Miss May in? I wished to see her.â After a momentary pause he added, with a tinge of sarcasm, âYour illness wasnât serious, I see.â
Mr. Hutchings was not taken by surprise; he had prepared for this meeting, and had resolved to defend himself. The task, he believed, would be easy. He had almost persuaded himself that he had acted in the Professorâs interest. Roberts was singularly unworldly; he might accept the explanation, and if he didnâtâwhat did it matter? His own brighter prospects filled him with a sense of triumph; in the last three days his long-repressed vanity had shot up to self-satisfaction, making him callous to what Roberts or any one else might think. But the sneer in his visitorâs words stung him, induced him to throw off the mask of illness which he had intended to assume. He replied with an indifference that was defiant:
âNo; I wasnât well yesterday, but Iâm better now, though I shall keep indoors for a day or two. A chill, I suppose.â
Receiving no answer, he found relief in complete boldness.
âYou see my prediction as to the result of the election has been justified?â
âYou might even say pars magna fui.â
The retort slipped out. The impudent challenge had to be met. The Professor did not realize how contemptuously he spoke.
The womanish weakness in Hutchings sprang to hurried attack.
âAt any rate youâve no cause for reproach. I resigned chiefly to shield you. I told you long ago that I didnât want particularly to be Mayor, and the assault upon your position in the University decided me. There was no way to save your place except by giving Gulmore the victory he wanted. Youâre engaged to May, and May is fond of you: Iâm not rich, and a post of three thousand dollars a year is not often to be found by a young man. What would you do if you were dismissed? I had toâsacrifice myself. Not that it matters much, but Iâve got myself into a fuss with the party, injured myself all round on your account, and then you talk as if you had some reason to be offended. Thatâs hardly right, Professor.â The lawyer was satisfied with his case; his concluding phrase built a bridge for a magnanimous reconciliation.
âYou wish me to believe that you resigned at the last moment without telling me of your intention in order to further my interests?â Mr. Hutchings was disagreeably shocked by the disdainful, incredulous question; Roberts was harder to blind than he had supposed; his indignation became more than half sincere.
âI didnât make up my mind till the last minuteâI couldnât. It wasnât easy for me to leave the party Iâve fought with for ten years. And the consequences donât seem likely to be pleasant to me. But that doesnât signify. This discussion is useless. If youâll take my advice youâll think of answering the charge that will be brought against you in the Faculty meeting, instead of trying to get up a groundless accusation against me.â The menace in
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