Part 42 (2/2)
The Judge listened with a benignant smile and a twinkling eye, every once in a while giving the tip of his long fleshy nose an abrupt shove, as if it impeded his breathing.
”Just so!” he exclaimed. ”Just so! It is the Otis blood. No better pioneer blood in the State. Jim was the wild one. The others were as steady as rocks. Their father and grandfather--your ancestors, sir--helped to make this great State what it is. Their names will always be honored in the annals of California. Terrible pity Jim and Hi got away with so much. If they'd hung on as your mother and her mother did, Miss Isabel would be one of the heiresses. But she seems able to take care of herself, and with that face and form, I guess she can redeem her fortunes any way she chooses. I hear that young Harry Hofer can't talk of anything else.”
Gwynne wondered if this were what the judge had come for, but exonerated him, concluding that he was merely rambling on in the hope of an opening.
”No doubt!” he said, heartily. ”Miss Otis could marry any one she pleased. One of the best t.i.tles in England was hers for the asking, by-the-way. But like myself she is too good an American--shall I say Californian?--to live anywhere but here. She is immensely successful with her chickens, and we shall all make money on this new deal--I am certain of that.”
”No doubt, no doubt. Things are booming in San Francisco. You'll get a huge rent from a building of that size--in time. Pity it has to be divided among three of you. And there will be a big mortgage to pay off first, I suppose; and it is in a very precarious district, a very precarious district.” And once more the twinkle retired and he gazed dreamily at the fire.
”Oh, even golden apples have to ripen. And I have taken every precaution against fires. Have some more whiskey, Judge.”
”Don't care if I do.” Gwynne knew that the Scotch scalded a throat caressed these many years with the oily rye, and put as little seltzer in it as he dared. But the judge sipped it heroically. Suddenly the twinkle danced back to his eye as he turned it upon Gwynne.
”You can't delude me!” he cried. ”You can't, sir. I know you intend to go in for politics. Nothing else would ever satisfy your genius. Own up, now.”
”Well,” said Gwynne, modestly. ”I have thought of it. After my five years are up, of course--makes one feel rather like a convict. Meanwhile I can make some headway with the law: or, shall I say, build up a reputation that may be useful to me when I am able to run for office.”
”Ah! Just so! Great pity you were ever discharged from your American indigenate. Then one year in California would settle the matter. Which of our parties makes the strongest appeal to you?”
Gwynne's eyes had contracted and he was staring at the stove. But his abstraction was too brief to be noticed, and he answered in a confidential tone, ”Well, Judge, to tell you the truth--” And then he stopped and laughed.
”I see. You think one is about as bad as the other.”
”Well, I am afraid that is it.”
”Oh, my boy, they're not nearly as bad as they are made out to be--our American politics. Judge Leslie is dotty on that subject, and so are a good many of the other old fossils of Rosewater. I don't say but that San Francisco would be the better for a good spring cleaning, but the State's not nearly so bad as it's painted, not nearly so bad as it's painted.”
He delivered his repeated phrases with an unctuous indulgent roll that made Gwynne long to grind his teeth. But the prospective American merely raised an interrogative eyebrow. ”I don't hear much good in any direction,” he murmured.
”Of course, I can understand that you have seen through Tom Colton, and that he has appalled you as much as the fossils. He's in a hurry, and if he isn't mighty careful the machine will throw him down. For all his affected simplicity he's too fond of the limelight: loves to see his name in print; and when he makes a donation to a charity or an improvement scheme he uses up all the fireworks in the State.”
”I was under the impression that he was in high favor with the district Boss--”
”The district Boss is getting old, and Tom, one way or another, has acquired a great influence over him; but I happen to know that he doesn't stand any too well with the State Democratic Boss.”
”If Tom were really earnest in his reforms, really had the interest of the common people at heart--although I never saw common people so well off in my life--but the point is that if Tom were really sincere he might form an independent party.”
”Well, he can. It won't do him any good. It wouldn't do even you any good to work up a reform party, and your abilities are to his as a thousand to one. In fact a man like yourself would have far less chance.
They would let Tom amuse himself, but they would find you really dangerous, and the upshot would be that the two parties would unite and crush you. Crush you flat. You might be a George Was.h.i.+ngton, Alexander Hamilton, and Abraham Lincoln rolled into one, and you would emerge from the swift and simultaneous impact of those two cast-iron walls flatter than the sole of your boot. Even if you made a good running on a reform wave, so much the worse. Reform waves merely serve the purpose of making some poor devil conspicuous and recklessly optimistic, then subside and leave him high and dry--at the mercy of the ever-recuperating machine.
It's enough to make a man wish he'd never been born. I've seen it more than once. There's only one of two results. They are either so disgusted with politics that they stay out of them for the rest of their lives, or they pick themselves up and make a bolt for the machine they think most likely to give them a career. Look at some of our most ill.u.s.trious inc.u.mbents. Great bluff on the outside--which the machine don't mind one little bit--and the best sort of a party man inside; walking a chalked line with no rebellious wings on his feet. Wings don't grow on clay. But they are right, Mr. Gwynne, and not because they are wrong, either. In this great country organization is absolutely essential, and in all vast complicated organizations some chicanery will creep in. But take them all in all, American politics are not half as bad as they are painted, not half as bad as they are painted.”
”Well, that is a relief. You certainly should know. But what of the great corporations that rule this State--as well as the country? The State Democratic or Republican Boss is president or treasurer of one of them, is he not? I haven't taken the trouble to be very specific as yet.
My time is so far off. Of course I do not need to be told that organizations, trusts, or whatever you like to call them, are inevitable--because they are in the line of progress; and unabused, they would be as much to the advancement of the individual as of the country.
But they have been abused, from all I can make out--quite shockingly. I am taking the course on 'The Law of Corporations' at the University, partly because I want to understand so vital a question as thoroughly as possible--and partly--well--at least, I fancied I should--for a time--for what money there might be in it--But really!”
”Oh, I don't say that some trusts are not reprehensible, and the sooner they are exposed the better. But they are sensational cases. The majority of the great complex aggregations of capital are monuments to American genius and progress; I am sure that if you waste any time on the yellow press you know how to discount it. Some of even the best of the trusts may have swollen to a size that renders them practically unmanageable, as well as injudiciously provocative of much jealousy and unrest. But the principle is sound, as you have admitted, and the great law of adjustment will correct all that is undesirable, and in a very few years. Meanwhile, get rich yourself, Mr. Gwynne. I'm delighted to learn that corporation law has appealed to you so strongly, for the money is there. I'm glad I came. I'd like to do one of your blood a good turn, to say nothing of yourself. Perfect yourself in corporation law and Leslie says you acc.u.mulate more rapidly than any hundred ordinarily well-equipped men one might name--and I can put you in the way of clearing a hundred thousand a year.”
”_Could_ you?”
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