unnatural. She protested as strongly as she could, without upsetting her
equanimity, for to go beyond that she felt was unladylike and bad for
both nerves and digestion. It was a grief for her to see Gloria actually
working with anyone, much less Philip, whose theories were quite
upsetting, and who, after all, was beyond the pale of their social
sphere and was impossible as a son-in-law.
Consequently, Philip was not surprised when one day in the fall, he
received a disconsolate note from Gloria who was spending a few weeks
with her parents at their camp in the hills beyond Tuxedo, saying that
her father had flatly refused to allow her to take a regular position
with one of the New York settlements, which would require her living on
the East Side instead of at home. The note concluded:
"Now, Philip, do come up for Sunday and let's talk it over, for I am
sadly at variance with my family, and I need your assistance and advice.
"Your very sincere,
"GLORIA."
The letter left Dru in a strangely disturbed state of mind, and all
during the trip up from New York his thoughts were on Gloria and what
the future would bring forth to them both.
On the afternoon following his arrival at the camp, as he and the young
woman walked over the hills aflame with autumnal splendor, Gloria told
of her bitter disappointment. The young man listened in sympathy, but
after a long pause in which she saw him weighing the whole question in
his mind, he said: "Well, Gloria, so far as your work alone is
concerned, there is something better that you can do if you will. The
most important things to be done now are not amongst the poor but
amongst the rich. There is where you may become a forceful missionary
for good. All of us can reach the poor, for they welcome us, but there
are only a few who think like you, who can reach the rich and powerful.
"Let that be your field of endeavor. Do your work gently and with
moderation, so that some at least may listen. If we would convince and
convert, we must veil our thoughts and curb our enthusiasm, so that
those we would influence will think us reasonable."
"Well, Philip," answered Gloria, "if you really think I can help the
cause, of course--"
"I'm sure you can help the cause. A lack of understanding is the chief
obstacle, but, Gloria, you know that this is not an easy thing for me to
say, for I realize that it will largely take you out of my life, for my
path leads in the other direction.
"It will mean that I will no longer have you as a daily inspiration, and
the sordidness and loneliness will press all the harder, but we have
seen the true path, and now have a clearer understanding of the meaning
and importance of our work."
"And so, Philip, it is decided that you will go back to the East Side to
your destiny, and I will remain here, there and everywhere, Newport,
New York, Palm Beach, London, carrying on my work as I see it."
They had wandered long and far by now, and had come again to the edge of
the lofty forest that was a part of her father's estate. They stood for
a moment in that vast silence looking into each other's eyes, and then
they clasped hands over their tacit, compact, and without a word, walked
back to the bungalow.
CHAPTER XI
SELWYN PLOTS WITH THOR
For five years Gloria and Philip worked in their separate fields, but,
nevertheless, coming in frequent touch with one another. Gloria
proselyting the rich by showing them their selfishness, and turning
them to a larger purpose in life, and Philip leading the forces of those
who had consecrated themselves to the uplifting of the unfortunate. It
did not take Philip long to discern that in the last analysis it would
be necessary for himself and co-workers to reach the results aimed at
through politics. Masterful and arrogant wealth, created largely by
Government protection of its profits, not content with its domination
and influence within a single party, had sought to corrupt them both,
and to that end had insinuated itself into the primaries, in order that
no candidates might be nominated whose views were not in accord with
theirs.
By the use of all the money that could be spent, by a complete and
compact organization and by the most infamous sort of deception
regarding his real opinions and intentions, plutocracy had succeeded in
electing its creature to the Presidency. There had been formed a league,
the membership of which was composed of one thousand multi-millionaires,
each one contributing ten thousand dollars. This gave a fund of ten
million dollars with which to mislead those that could be misled, and to
debauch the weak and uncertain.
This nefarious plan was conceived by a senator whose swollen fortune had
been augmented year after year through the tributes paid him by the
interests he represented. He had a marvelous aptitude for political
manipulation and organization, and he forged a subtle chain with which
to hold in subjection the natural impulses of the people. His plan was
simple, but behind it was the cunning of a mind that had never known
defeat. There was no man in either of the great political parties that
was big enough to cope with him or to unmask his methods.
Up to the advent of Senator Selwyn, the interests
had not successfully concealed their hands. Sometimes
the public had been mistaken as to the true
character of their officials, but sooner or later the truth had
developed, for in most instances, wealth was openly for or against
certain men and measures. But the adroit Selwyn moved differently.
His first move was to confer with John Thor, the high priest of finance,
and unfold his plan to him, explaining how essential was secrecy. It was
agreed between them that it should be known to the two of them only.
Thor's influence throughout commercial America was absolute. His wealth,
his ability and even more the sum of the capital he could control
through the banks, trust companies and industrial organizations, which
he dominated, made his word as potent as that of a monarch.
He and Selwyn together went over the roll and selected the thousand that
were to give each ten thousand dollars. Some they omitted for one
reason or another, but when they had finished they had named those who
could make or break within a day any man or corporation within their
sphere of influence. Thor was to send for each of the thousand and
compliment him by telling him that there was a matter, appertaining to
the general welfare of the business fraternity, which needed twenty
thousand dollars, that he, Thor, would put up ten, and wanted him to put
up as much, that sometime in the future, or never, as the circumstances
might require, would he make a report as to the expenditure and purpose
therefor.
There were but few men of business between the Atlantic and Pacific, or
between Canada and Mexico, who did not consider themselves fortunate in
being called to New York by Thor, and in being asked to join him in a
blind pool looking to the safe-guarding of wealth. Consequently, the
amassing of this great corruption fund in secret was simple. If
necessity had demanded it twice the sum could have been raised. The
money when collected was placed in Thor's name in different banks
controlled by him, and Thor, from time to time, as requested by Selwyn,
placed in banks designated by him whatever sums were needed. Selwyn then
transferred these amounts to the private bank of his son-in-law, who
became final paymaster. The result was that the public had no chance of
obtaining any knowledge of the fund or how it was spent.
The plan was simple, the result effective. Selwyn had no one to
interfere with him. The members of the pool had contributed blindly to
Thor, and Thor preferred not to know what Selwyn was doing nor how he
did it. It was a one man power which in the hands of one possessing
ability of the first class, is always potent for good or evil.
Not only did Selwyn plan to win the Presidency, but he also planned to
bring under his control both the Senate and the Supreme Court. He
selected one man in each of thirty of the States, some of them belonging
to his party and some to the opposition, whom he intended to have run
for the Senate.
If he succeeded in getting twenty of them elected, he counted upon
having a good majority of the Senate, because there were already
thirty-eight Senators upon whom he could rely in any serious attack upon
corporate wealth.
As to the Supreme Court, of the nine justices there were three that were
what he termed "safe and sane," and another that could be counted upon
in a serious crisis.
Three of them, upon whom he could not rely, were of advanced age, and it
was practically certain that the next President would have that many
vacancies to fill. Then there would be an easy working majority.
His plan contemplated nothing further than this. His intention was to
block all legislation adverse to the interests. He would have no new
laws to fear, and of the old, the Supreme Court would properly interpret
them.
He did not intend that his Senators should all vote alike, speak alike,
or act from apparently similar motives. Where they came from States
dominated by corporate wealth, he would have them frankly vote in the
open, and according to their conviction.
When they came from agricultural States, where the sentiment was known
as "progressive," they could cover their intentions in many ways. One
method was by urging an amendment so radical that no honest progressive
would consent to it, and then refusing to support the more moderate
measure because it did not go far enough. Another was to inject some
clause that was clearly unconstitutional, and insist upon its adoption,
and refusing to vote for the bill without its insertion.
Selwyn had no intention of letting any one Senator know that he
controlled any other senator. There were to be no caucuses, no
conferences of his making, or anything that looked like an organization.
He was the center, and from him radiated everything appertaining to
measures affecting "the interests."
CHAPTER XII
SELWYN SEEKS A CANDIDATE
Selwyn then began carefully scrutinizing such public men in the States
known as Presidential cradles, as seemed to him eligible. By a process
of elimination he centered upon two that appeared desirable.
One was James R. Rockland, recently elected Governor of a State of the
Middle West. The man had many of the earmarks of a demagogue, which
Selwyn readily recognized, and he therefore concluded to try him first.
Accordingly he went to the capital of the State ostensibly upon private
business, and dropped in upon the Governor in the most casual way.
Rockland was distinctly flattered by the attention, for Selwyn was,
perhaps, the best known figure in American politics, while he, himself,
had only begun to attract attention. They had met at conventions and
elsewhere, but they were practically unacquainted, for Rockland had
never been permitted to enter the charmed circle which gathered around
Selwyn.
"Good morning, Governor," said Selwyn, when he had been admitted to
Rockland's private room. "I was passing through the capital and I
thought I would look in on you and see how your official cares were
using you."
"I am glad to see you, Senator," said Rockland effusively, "very glad,
for there are some party questions coming up at the next session of the
Legislature about which I particularly desire your advice."
"I have but a moment now, Rockland," answered the Senator, "but if you
will dine with me in my rooms at the Mandell House to-night it will be a
pleasure to talk over such matters with you."
"Thank you, Senator, at what hour?"
"You had better come at seven for if I finish my business here to-day, I
shall leave on the 10 o'clock for Washington," said Selwyn.
Thus in the most casual way the meeting was arranged. As a matter of
fact, Rockland had no party matters to discuss, and Selwyn knew it. He
also knew that Rockland was ambitious to become a leader, and to get
within the little group that controlled the party and the Nation.
Rockland was a man of much ability, but he fell far short of measuring
up with Selwyn, who was in a class by himself. The Governor was a good
orator, at times even brilliant, and while not a forceful man, yet he
had magnetism which served him still better in furthering his political
fortunes. He was not one that could be grossly corrupted, yet he was
willing to play to the galleries in order to serve his ambition, and he
was willing to forecast his political acts in order to obtain potential
support.
When he reached the Mandell House, he was at once shown to the Senator's
rooms. Selwyn received him cordially enough to be polite, and asked him
if he would not look over the afternoon paper for a moment while he
finished a note he was writing. He wrote leisurely, then rang for a boy
and ordered dinner to be served.
Selwyn merely tasted the wine (he seldom did more) but Rockland drank
freely though not to excess. After they had talked over the local
matters which were supposed to be the purpose of the conference, much
to Rockland's delight, the Senator began to discuss national politics.
"Rockland," began Selwyn, "can you hold this state in line at next
year's election?"
"I feel sure that I can, Senator, why do you ask?"
"Since we have been talking here," he replied, "it has occurred to me
that if you could be nominated and elected again, the party might do
worse than to consider you for the presidential nomination the year
following.
"No, my dear fellow, don't interrupt me," continued Selwyn
mellifluously.
"It is strange how fate or chance enters into the life of man and even
of nations. A business matter calls me here, I pass your office and
think to pay my respects to the Governor of the State. Some political
