Books: Lifted Masks
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Susan Glaspell >> Lifted Masks
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He leaned upon the table then, as though very weary. "I don't know,
I am sure, what the people of my State will think of all this.
Perhaps they won't want a man for their Governor who once tried to
kill another man. But," he looked around at them with that smile of
his which got straight to men's hearts, "there's only one of me, and
there are three hundred of you, and how do I know but that in
telling you of that stretch of bad road ahead I've made a dozen
Governors this very afternoon!"
He looked from row to row of them, trying to think of some last word
which would leave them with a sense of his sincerity. What he did
say was: "And so, boys, when you get away from here, and go out into
the world to get your start, if you find the arms of that world
aren't quite as wide open as you were told they would be, if there
seems no place where you can get a hold, and you are saying to
yourself, 'It's no use--I'll not try,' before you give up just
remember there was one man who said he knew all about it, and give
that one man a chance to show he meant what he said. So look me up,
if luck goes all against you, and maybe I can give you a little
lift." He took a backward step, as though to resume his seat, and
then he said, with a dry little smile which took any suggestion of
heroics from what had gone before, "If I'm not at the State-house,
you'll find my name in the directory of the city where your
programme tells you I live."
He sat down, and for a moment there was silence. Then, full-souled,
heart-given, came the applause. It was not led by the attendants
this time; it was the attendants who rose at last to stop it. And
when the clapping of the hands had ceased, many of those hands were
raised to eyes which had long been dry.
The exercises were drawn to a speedy close, and he found the party
manager standing by his side. "It was very grand," he sneered, "very
high-sounding and heroic, but I suppose you know," jerking his hand
angrily toward a table where a reporter for the leading paper of the
opposition was writing, "that you've given them the winning card."
As he replied, in far-off tone, "I hope so," the candidate for
Governor was looking, not at the reporter who was sending out a new
cry for the opposition, but into those faces aglow with the light of
new understanding and new-born hopes. He stood there watching them
filing out into the corridor, craning their necks to throw him a
last look, and as he turned then and looked from the window it was
to see that the storm had sobbed itself away, and that along the
driveway of the reformatory grounds the young trees--unbroken and
unhurt--were rearing their heads in the way they should go.
VII
HOW THE PRINCE SAW AMERICA
They began work at seven-thirty, and at ten minutes past eight every
hammer stopped. In the Senate Chamber and in the House, on the
stairways and in the corridors, in every office from the Governor's
to the custodian's they laid down their implements and rose to their
feet. A long whistle had sounded through the building. There was
magic in its note.
"What's the matter with you fellows?" asked the attorney-general,
swinging around in his chair.
"Strike," declared one of the men, with becoming brevity.
"Strike of what?"
"Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One," replied the man, kindly
gathering up a few tacks.
"Never heard of it."
"Organised last night," said the carpet-tacker, putting on his coat.
"Well I'll--" he paused expressively, then inquired: "What's your
game?"
"Well, you see, boss, this executive council that runs the
State-house has refused our demands."
"What are your demands?"
"Double pay."
"Double pay! Now how do you figure it out that you ought to have
double pay?"
"Rush work. You see we were under oath, or pretty near that, to get
every carpet in the State-house down by four o'clock this afternoon.
Now you know yourself that rush work is hard on the nerves. Did you
ever get rush work done at a laundry and not pay more for it? We was
anxious as anybody to get the Capitol in shape for the big show this
afternoon. But there's reason in all things."
"Yes," agreed his auditor, "there is."
The man looked at him a little doubtfully. "Our president--we
elected Johnny McGuire president last night--went to the Governor
this morning with our demands."
The Governor's fellow official smiled--he knew the Governor pretty
well. "And he turned you down?"
The striker nodded. "But there's an election next fall; maybe the
turning down will be turned around."
"Maybe so--you never can tell. I don't know just what power
Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One will wield, but the Governor's
pretty solid, you know, with Labour as a whole."
That was true, and went home. The striker rubbed his foot
uncertainly across the floor, and took courage from its splinters.
"Well, there's one thing sure. When Prince Ludwig and his train-load
of big guns show up at four o'clock this afternoon they'll find bare
floors, and pretty bum bare floors, on deck at this place."
The attorney-general rubbed his own foot across the splintered,
miserable boards. "They are pretty bum," he reflected. "I wonder,"
he added, as the man was half-way out of the door, "what Prince
Ludwig will think of the American working-man when he arrives this
afternoon?"
"Just about as much," retorted the not-to-be-downed carpet-tacker,
"as he does about American generosity. And he may think a few
things," he added weightily, "about American independence."
"Oh, he's sure to do that," agreed the attorney-general.
He joined the crowd in the corridor. They were swarming out from all
the offices, all talking of the one thing. "It was a straight case
of hold-up," declared the Governor's secretary. "They supposed they
had us on the hip. They were getting extra money as it was, but you
see they just figured it out we'd pay anything rather than have
these wretched floors for the reception this afternoon. They thought
the Governor would argue the question, and then give in, or, at any
rate, compromise. They never intended for one minute that the Prince
should find bare floors here. And I rather think," he concluded,
"that they feel a little done up about it themselves."
"What's the situation?" asked a stranger within the gates.
"It's like this," a newspaper reporter told him; "about a month ago
there was a fire here and the walls and carpets were pretty well
knocked out with smoke and water. The carpets were mean old things
anyway, so they voted new ones. And I want to tell you"--he swelled
with pride--"that the new ones are beauties. The place'll look great
when we get 'em down. Well, you know Prince Ludwig and his crowd
cross the State on their way to the coast, and of course they were
invited to stop. Last week Billy Patton--he's running the whole
show--declined the invitation on account of lack of time, and then
yesterday comes a telegram saying the Prince himself insisted on
stopping. You know he's keen about Indian dope--and we've got Indian
traditions to burn. So Mr. Bill Patton had to make over his schedule
to please the Prince, and of course we were all pretty tickled about
it, for more reasons than one. The telegram didn't come until five
o'clock yesterday afternoon, but you know what a hummer the Governor
is when he gets a start. He made up his mind this building should be
put in shape within twenty-four hours. They engaged a whole lot of
fellows to work on the carpets to-day. Then what did they do but get
together last night--well, you know the rest. Pretty bum-looking old
shack just now, isn't it?" and the reporter looked around ruefully.
It was approaching the hour for the legislature to convene, and the
members who were beginning to saunter in swelled the crowd--and the
indignation--in the rotunda.
The Governor, meanwhile, had been trying to get other men, but
Carpet-Tackers' Union Number One had looked well to that. The
biggest furniture dealer in the city was afraid of the plumbers.
"Pipes burst last night," he said, "and they may not do a thing for
us if we get mixed up in this. Sorry--but I can't let my customers
get pneumonia."
Another furniture man was afraid of the teamsters. For one reason or
another no one was disposed to respond to the Macedonian cry, and
when the Governor at last gave it up and walked out into the rotunda
he was about as disturbed as he permitted himself to get. "It's the
idea of lying down," he said. "I'd do anything--anything!--if I
could only think what to do."
A popular young member of the House overheard the remark. "By
George, Governor," he burst forth, after a minute's deep
study--"say--by Jove, I say, let's do it ourselves!"
They all laughed, but the Governor's laugh stopped suddenly, and he
looked hard at the young man.
"Why not?" the young legislator went on. "It's a big job, but there
are a lot of us. We've all put down carpets at home; what are we
afraid to tackle it here for?"
Again the others laughed, but the Governor did not. "Say, Weston,"
he said, "I'd give a lot--I tell you I'd give a lot--if we just
could!"
"Leave it to me!"--and he was lost in the crowd.
The Governor's eyes followed him. He had always liked Harry Weston.
He was the very sort to inspire people to do things. The Governor
smiled knowingly as he noted the men Weston was approaching, and his
different manner with the various ones. And then he had mounted a
few steps of the stairway, and was standing there facing the crowd.
"Now look here," he began, after silence had been obtained, "this
isn't a very formal meeting, but it's a mighty important one. It's a
clear case of Carpet-Tackers' Union against the State. What I want
to know is--Is the State going to lie down?"
There were loud cries of "No!"--"Well, I should say not!"
"Well, then, see here. The Governor's tried for other men and can't
get them. Now the next thing I want to know is--What's the matter
with us?"
They didn't get it for a minute, and then everybody laughed.
"It's no joke! You've all put down carpets at home; what's the use
of pretending you don't know how to do it? Oh yes--I know, bigger
building, and all that, but there are more of us, and the principle
of carpet-tacking is the same, big building or little one. Now my
scheme is this--Every fellow his own carpet-tacker! The Governor's
office puts down the Governor's carpet; the Secretary's office puts
down the Secretary's carpet; the Senate puts down the Senate
carpet--and we'll look after our little patch in the House!"
"But you've got more fellows than anybody else," cried a member of
the Senate.
"Right you are, and we'll have an over-flow meeting in the corridors
and stairways. The House, as usual, stands ready to do her
part,"--that brought a laugh for the Senators, and from them.
"Now get it out of your heads this is a joke. The carpets are here;
the building is full of able-bodied men; the Prince is coming at
four--by his own request, and the proposition is just this: Are we
going to receive him in a barn or in a palace? Let's hear what
Senator Arnold thinks about it."
That was a good way of getting away from the idea of its being a
joke. Senator Arnold was past seventy. Slowly he extended his right
arm and tested his muscle. "Not very much," he said, "but enough to
drive a tack or two." That brought applause and they drew closer
together, and the atmosphere warmed perceptibly. "I've fought for
the State in more ways than one,"--Senator Arnold was a
distinguished veteran of the Civil War--"and if I can serve her now
by tacking down carpets, then it's tacking down carpets I'm ready to
go at. Just count on me for what little I'm worth."
Someone started the cry for the Governor. "Prince Ludwig is being
entertained all over the country in the most lavish manner," he
began, with his characteristic directness in stating a situation.
"By his own request he is to visit our Capitol this afternoon. I
must say that I, for one, want to be in shape for him. I don't like
to tell him that we had a labour complication and couldn't get the
carpets down. Speaking for myself, it is a great pleasure to inform
you that the carpet in the Governor's office will be in proper shape
by four o'clock this afternoon."
That settled it. Finally Harry Weston made himself heard
sufficiently to suggest that when the House and Senate met at nine
o'clock motions to adjourn be entertained. "And as to the rest of
you fellows," he cried, "I don't see what's to hinder your getting
busy right now!"
There were Republicans and there were Democrats; there were friends
and there were enemies; there were good, bad and--no, there were no
indifferent. An unprecedented harmony of thought, a millennium-like
unity of action was born out of that sturdy cry--Every man his own
carpet-tacker! The Secretary of State always claimed that he drove
the first tack, but during the remainder of his life the
Superintendent of Public Instruction also contended hotly for that
honour. The rivalry as to who would do the best job, and get it done
most quickly, became intense. Early in the day Harry Weston made the
rounds of the building and announced a fine of one-hundred dollars
for every wrinkle. There were pounded fingers and there were broken
backs, but slowly, steadily and good-naturedly the State-house
carpet was going down. It was a good deal bigger job than they had
anticipated, but that only added zest to the undertaking. The news
of how the State officials were employing themselves had spread
throughout the city, and guards were stationed at every door to keep
out people whose presence would work more harm than good. All
assistance from women was courteously refused. "This is solemn
business," said the Governor, in response to a telephone from some
of the fair sex, "and the introduction of the feminine element might
throw about it a social atmosphere which would result in loss of
time. And then some of the boys might feel called upon to put on
their collars and coats."
Stretch--stretch--stretch, and tack--tack--tack, all morning long it
went on, for the State-house was large--oh, very large. There should
have been a Boswell there to get the good things, for the novelty of
the situation inspired wit even in minds where wit had never glowed
before. Choice bits which at other times would fairly have gone on
official record were now passed almost unnoticed, so great was the
surfeit. Instead of men going out to lunch, lunch came in to them.
Bridget Haggerty, who by reason of her long connection with the
boarding-house across the street was a sort of unofficial official
of the State, came over and made the coffee and sandwiches, all the
while calling down blessings on the head of every mother's son of
them, and announcing in loud, firm tones that while all five of her
boys belonged to the union she'd be after tellin' them what she
thought of this day's work!
It was a United States Senator who did the awful trick, and, to be
fair, the Senator did not think of it as an awful trick at all. He
came over there in the middle of the morning to see the Governor,
and in a few hurried words--it was no day for conversation--was told
what was going on. It was while standing out in the corridor
watching the perspiring dignitaries that the idea of his duty came
to him, and one reason he was sure he was right was the way in which
it came to him in the light of a duty. Here was America in undress
uniform! Here was--not a thing arranged for show, but absolutely the
thing itself! Prince Ludwig had come with a sincere desire to see
America. Every one knew that he was not seeing it at all. He would
go back with memories of bands and flags and people all dressed up
standing before him making polite speeches. But would he carry back
one small whiff of the spirit of the country? Again Senator Bruner
looked about him. The Speaker of the House was just beginning laying
the stair carpet; a judge of the Supreme Court was contending hotly
for a better hammer. "It's an insult to expect any decent man to
drive tacks with a hammer like this," he was saying. Here were
men--real, live men, men with individuality, spirit. When the Prince
had come so far, wasn't it too bad that he should not see anything
but uniforms and cut glass and dress suits and other externals and
non-essentials? Senator Bruner was a kind man; he was a good fellow;
he was hospitable--patriotic. He decided now in favour of the
Prince.
He had to hurry about it, for it was almost twelve then. One of the
vice-presidents of the road lived there, and he was taken into
confidence, and proved an able and eager ally. They located the
special train bearing the Prince and ordered it stopped at the next
station. The stop was made that Senator Patton might receive a long
telegram from Senator Bruner. "I figure it like this," the Senator
told the vice-president. "They get to Boden at a quarter of one and
were going to stop there an hour. Then they were going to stop a
little while at Creyville. I've told Patton the situation, and that
if he wants to do the right thing by the prince he'll cut out those
stops and rush right through here. That will bring him in--well,
they could make it at a quarter of two. I've told him I'd square it
with Boden and Creyville. Oh, he'll do it all right."
And even as he said so came the reply from Patton: "Too good to
miss. Will rush through. Arrive before two. Have carriage at Water
Street."
"That's great!" cried the Senator. "Trust Billy Patton for falling
in with a good thing. And he's right about missing the station
crowd. Patton can always go you one better," he admitted,
grinningly.
They had luncheon together, and they were a good deal more like
sophomores in college than like a United States Senator and a big
railroad man. "You don't think there's any danger of their getting
through too soon?" McVeigh kept asking, anxiously.
"Not a bit," the Senator assured him. "They can't possibly make it
before three. We'll come in just in time for the final skirmish.
It's going to be a jolly rush at the last."
They laid their plans with skill worthy of their training. The State
library building was across from the Capitol, and they were
connected by tunnel. "I never saw before," said the Senator, "what
that tunnel was for, but I see now what a great thing it is. We'll
get him in at the west door of the library--we can drive right up to
it, you know, and then we walk him through the tunnel. That's a
stone floor"--the Senator was chuckling with every sentence--"so I
guess they won't be carpeting it. There's a little stairway running
up from the tunnel---and say, we must telephone over and arrange
about those keys. There'll be a good deal of climbing, but the
Prince is a good fellow, and won't mind. It wouldn't be safe to try
the elevator, for Harry Weston would be in it taking somebody a
bundle of tacks. The third floor is nothing but store rooms; we'll
not be disturbed up there, and we can look right down the rotunda
and see the whole show. Of course we'll be discovered in time; some
one is sure to look up and see us, but we'll fix it so they won't
see us before we've had our fun, and it strikes me, McVeigh, that
for two old fellows like you and me we've put the thing through in
pretty neat shape."
It was a very small and unpretentious party which stepped from the
special at Water Street a little before two. The Prince was wearing
a long coat and an automobile cap and did not suggest anything at
all formidable or unusual. "You've saved the country," Senator
Patton whispered in an aside. "He was getting bored. Never saw a
fellow jolly up so in my life. Guess he was just spoiling for some
fun. Said it would be really worth while to see somebody who wasn't
looking for him."
Senator Bruner beamed. "That's just the point. He's caught my idea
exactly."
It went without a hitch. "I feel," said the Prince, as they were
hurrying him through the tunnel, "that I am a little boy who has run
away from school. Only I have a terrible fear that at any minute
some band may begin to play, and somebody may think of making a
speech."
They gave this son of a royal house a seat on a dry-goods box, so
placed that he could command a good view, and yet be fairly secure.
The final skirmish was on in earnest. Two State Senators--coatless,
tieless, collarless, their faces dirty, their hair rumpled, were
finishing the stair carpet. The chairman of the appropriations
committee in the House was doing the stretching in a still
uncarpeted bit of the corridor, and a member who had recently
denounced the appropriations committee as a disgrace to the State
was presiding at the hammer. They were doing most exquisitely
harmonious team work. A railroad and anti-railroad member who fought
every time they came within speaking distance of one another were
now in an earnest and very chummy conference relative to a large
wrinkle which had just been discovered on the first landing. Many
men were standing around holding their backs, and many others were
deeply absorbed in nursing their fingers. The doors of the offices
were all open, and there was a general hauling in of furniture and
hanging of pictures. Clumsy but well-meaning fingers were doing
their best with "finishing touches." The Prince grew so excited
about it all that they had to keep urging him not to take too many
chances of being seen.
"And I'll tell you," Senator Bruner was saying, "it isn't only
because I knew it would be funny that I wanted you to see it;
but--well, you see America isn't the real America when she has on
her best clothes and is trying to show off. You haven't seen anybody
who hasn't prepared for your coming, and that means you haven't seen
them as they are at all. Now here we are. This is us! You see that
fellow hanging a picture down there? He's president of the First
National Bank. Came over a little while ago, got next to the
situation, and stayed to help. And--say, this is good! Notice that
red-headed fellow just getting up from his knees? Well, he's
president of the teamsters' union--figured so big in a strike here
last year. I call that pretty rich! He's the fellow they are all so
afraid of, but I guess he liked the idea of the boys doing it
themselves, and just sneaked in and helped.--There's the Governor.
He's a fine fellow. He wouldn't be held up by anybody--not even to
get ready for a Prince, but he's worked like a Trojan all day to
make things come his way. Yes sir--this is the sure-enough thing.
Here you have the boys off dress parade. Not that we run away from
our dignity every day, but--see what I mean?"
"I see," replied the Prince, and he looked as though he really did.
"You know--say, dodge there! Move back! No--too late. The Governor's
caught us. Look at him!"
The Governor's eyes had turned upward, and he had seen. He put his
hands on his back--he couldn't look up without doing that--and gave
a long, steady stare. First, Senator Bruner waved; then Senator
Patton waved; then Mr. McVeigh waved; and then the Prince waved.
Other people were beginning to look up. "They're all on," laughed
Patton, "let's go down."
At first they were disposed to think it pretty shabby treatment. "We
worked all day to get in shape," grumbled Harry Weston, "and then
you go ring the curtain up on us before it's time for our show to
begin."
But the Prince made them feel right about it. He had such a good
time that they were forced to concede the move had been a success.
And he said to the Governor as he was leaving: "I see that the only
way to see America is to see it when America is not seeing you."
VIII
THE LAST SIXTY MINUTES
"Nine--ten--" The old clock paused as if in dramatic appreciation of
the situation, and then slowly, weightily, it gave the final stroke,
"Eleven!"
The Governor swung his chair half-way round and looked the timepiece
full in the face. Already the seconds had begun ticking off the last
hour of his official life. On the stroke of twelve another man would
be Governor of the State. He sat there watching the movement of the
minute hand.
The sound of voices, some jovial, some argumentative, was borne to
him through the open transom. People were beginning to gather in the
corridors, and he could hear the usual disputes about tickets of
admission to the inaugural.
His secretary came in just then with some letters. "Could you see
Whitefield now?" he asked. "He's waiting out here for you."
The old man looked up wearily. "Oh, put him off, Charlie. Tell him
you can talk to him about whatever it is he wants to know."
The secretary had his hand on the knob, when the Governor added,
"And, Charlie, keep everybody out, if you can. I'm--I've got a few
private matters to go over."
The younger man nodded and opened the door. He half closed it behind
him, and then turned to say, "Except Francis. You'll want to see him
if he comes in, won't you?"
He frowned and moved impatiently as he answered, curtly: "Oh, yes."
Francis! Of course it never occurred to any of them that he could
close the door on Francis. He drummed nervously on his desk, then
suddenly reached down and, opening one of the drawers, tossed back a
few things and drew out a newspaper. He unfolded this and spread it
out on the desk. Running across the page was the big black line,
"Real Governors of Some Western States," and just below, the first
of the series, and played up as the most glaring example of nominal
and real in governorship, was a sketch of Harvey Francis.
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