The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him

by Paul Leicester Ford

  CHAPTER LV.

  OATHS.

  As soon as Peter was on the express he went into the smoking cabin ofthe sleeping-car, and lighting a cigar, took out a letter and read itover again. While he was still reading it, a voice exclaimed:

  "Good! Here's Peter. So you are in it too?" Ogden continued, as Ray andhe took seats by Peter.

  "I always did despise Anarchists and Nihilists," sighed Ray, "since Iwas trapped into reading some of those maudlin Russian novels, withtheir eighth-century ideas grafted on nineteenth-century conditions.Baby brains stimulated with whisky."

  Ogden turned to Peter. "How serious is it likely to be, Colonel?"

  "I haven't any idea," replied Peter, "The staff is of the opposite partynow, and I only have a formal notification to hold my regiment inreadiness. If it's nothing but this Socialist and Anarchist talk, thereis no real danger in it."

  "Why not?"

  "This country can never be in danger from discontent with ourgovernment, for it's what the majority want it to be, or if not, it ismade so at the next election. That is the beauty of a Democracy. Themajority always supports the government. We fight our revolutions withballots, not with bullets."

  "Yet Most says that blood must be shed."

  "I suppose," said Peter, "that he has just reached the stage ofintelligence which doctors had attained when they bled people to makethem strong."

  "What can you do with such a fellow's talk? You can't argue with him,"said Ogden.

  "Talk!" muttered Ray, "Don't dignify it with that word. Gibberish!"

  "No?" said Peter, "It's too earnest to deserve that name. The man can'texpress himself, but way down underneath all the absurd talk of'natural monopolies,' and of 'the oppression of the money-power,' therelies a germ of truth, without which none of their theories would have acorporal's guard of honest believers. We have been working towards thattruth in an unsystematic way for centuries, but we are a long way fromit, and till we solve how to realize it, we shall have ineffectualdiscontent."

  "But that makes the whole thing only the more arrant nonsense," grumbledRay. "It's foolish enough in all conscience sake, if they had a chanceof success, but when they haven't any, why the deuce do they want todrag us poor beggars back from Newport?"

  "Why did Rome insist on burning while Nero fiddled?" queried Petersmiling. "We should hear nothing of socialism and anarchy if Newport andthe like had no existence."

  "I believe at heart you're a Socialist yourself," cried Ray.

  "No danger," laughed Ogden; "his bank account is too large. No man withPeter's money is ever a Socialist"

  "You forget," said Ray, "that Peter is always an exception to the rule."

  "No," said Peter. "I disagree with Socialists entirely both in aims andmethods, but I sympathize with them, for I see the fearful problemswhich they think their theories will solve, and though I know howmistaken they are, I cannot blame them, when I see how seriously andhonestly they believe in, and how unselfishly they work for, theirideas. Don't blame the Socialists, for they are quite as conscientiousas were the Abolitionists. Blame it to the lack of scientific education,which leaves these people to believe that theories containing a halftruth are so wholly true that they mean the regeneration and salvationof society."

  "I suppose you are right," sighed Ray, "for you've thought of it, and Ihaven't. I don't want to, either. I thank the Lord I'm not as serious asyou, Graveyard. But if you want to air your theory, I'll lend you myears, for friendship's sake. I don't promise to remember."

  Peter puffed his cigar for a moment "I sometimes conclude," he said,"that the people who are most in need of education, are the college-bredmen. They seem to think they've done all the work and study of theirlife in their four years, and so can dissipate mentally ever after." ButPeter smiled as he said this and continued, more seriously: "Society andpersonal freedom are only possible in conjunction, when law or publicopinion interferes to the degree of repressing all individual acts thatinterfere with the freedom of others; thus securing the greatestindividual freedom to all. So far as physical force is concerned, wehave pretty well realized this condition. Because a man is strong he canno longer take advantage of the weak. But strength is not limited tomuscle. To protect the weak mind from the strong mind is an equal duty,and a far more difficult task. So far we have only partially succeeded.In this difficulty lies the whole problem. Socialism, so far as itattempts to repress individualism, and reduce mankind to an evennessopposed to all natural laws, is suicidal of the best in favor ofmediocrity. But so far as it attempts to protect that mediocrity andweakness from the superior minds of the best, it is only in line withthe laws which protect us from murder and robbery. You can't expect menof the Most variety, however, to draw such distinctions."

  "I do wish they would settle it, without troubling me," groaned Ray."Lispenard's right. A man's a fool who votes, or serves on a jury, orjoins a regiment. What's the good of being a good citizen, when theother fellow won't be? I'm sick of being good for nothing."

  "Have you just discovered that?" laughed Ogden. "You're progressing."

  "No," said Ray, "I am good for one thing. Like a good many other men Ifurnish the raw material on which the dearest of women may lavish heraffection. Heigh-ho! I wish I was before the fire with her now. It'srather rough to have visits to one's wife cut short in this way."

  Peter rose. "I am going to get some sleep, for we don't know what'sbefore us, and may not have much after to-night. But, Ray, there's aharder thing than leaving one's wife at such a time."

  "What's that, Peter?" asked Ray, looking at Peter with surprise.

  "To know that there is no one to whom your going or return reallymatters." Peter passed out of the cabin.

  "By George!" said Ray, "if it wasn't Peter, I'd have sworn there wassalt water in his eyes."

  "Anneke has always insisted that he was lonely. I wonder if she'sright?" Ogden queried.

  "If he is, why the deuce does he get off in those solitary quarters ofhis?"

  "Ray," said Ogden, "I have a sovereign contempt for a man who answersone question with another."

  Peter reached the city at six the next morning, and, despite the hour,began his work at once. He made a number of calls in the district,holding whispered dialogues with men; who, as soon as Peter was gone,hurried about and held similar conversations with other men; whopromptly went and did the same to still others. While they were doingthis, Peter drove uptown, and went into Dickel's riding academy. As hepassed through the office, a man came out.

  "Ah, Mr. Stirling. Good-morning."

  "Good-morning, Mr. Byrnes," said Peter. "How serious is it likely tobe?"

  "We can't say yet. But the force has all it can do now to handle theAnarchists and unemployed, and if this strike takes place we shall needyou."

  Peter passed into another room where were eight men.

  "Good-morning, Colonel," said one. "You are prompt."

  "What is the trouble?"

  "The Central has decided to make a general reduction. They put it inforce at noon to-day, and are so certain that the men will go out, thatthey've six hundred new hands ready somewhere to put right in."

  "Byrnes tells me he has all he can do."

  "Yes. We've obtained the governor's consent to embody eight regiments.It isn't only the strike that's serious, but this parade of theunemployed to-morrow, and the meeting which the Anarchists have calledin the City Hall. Byrnes reports a very ugly feeling, and buying ofarms."

  "It's rather rough on you, Stirling," spoke up a man, "to have it comewhile you are a nominee."

  Peter smiled, and passed into the room beyond. "Good-morning, GeneralCanfield," he said. "I have taken the necessary steps to embody myregiment. Are there any further orders?"

  "If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station," the officerreplied; "so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had betterfamiliarize yourself at once."

  "General Canfield," said Peter, "my regiment has probably moresympathizers with the stri
kers than has any other in the city. It couldnot be put in a worse place."

  "Are you objecting to orders?" said the man, in a sharp decisive voice.

  "No," replied Peter. "I am stating a fact, in hopes that it may preventtrouble."

  The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.

  "You have your orders," said the man, but he didn't look pleased orproud.

  Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab andwent to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went downinto the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked throughthem. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to thearrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show thata great business depression rested with crushing weight on the city, andespecially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and fromhungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; thatcapital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle whichperhaps meant death and destruction.

  The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeezethrough, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter passed in, however, withoutquestion, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy wasgathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, andgave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment withDennis.

  "They don't put us there, sir!" exclaimed Dennis.

  "Yes."

  "Are they mad?"

  "They've given us the worst job, not merely as a job, but especially forthe regiment. Perhaps they won't mind if things do go wrong."

  "Yez mean?"

  "What will people say of me on November fourth, if my regiment flunks onSeptember thirtieth?"

  "Arrah musha dillah!" cried Dennis. "An' is that it?"

  "I'm afraid so. Will the men stand by me?"

  "Oi'll make them. Yez see," shouted Dennis, "Oi'll tell the b'ys theyare tryin' to put yez in a hole, an' they'll stan' by yez, no matterwhat yez are told to do."

  As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he cameout, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and werenow standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were linedup.

  Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: "Before theroll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment totake possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, toprotect the property and operators of that road. This will be hard tosome of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing todo with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and law, and weare interested in having it done, far more than is the capitalist, forhe can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or not, while thelaboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared to support theState in its duty to protect the life and property of all, by anenforcement of the laws, I wish to know it now."

  Peter stood a moment waiting, and then said, "Thank you, men."

  The roll-call was made, and Peter sent off a line to headquarters,stating that his regiment, with only eighteen reported "missing" wasmustered and ready for further orders. Then the regiment broke ranks,and waited.

  Just as two o'clock struck a despatch was handed Peter. A moment latercame the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. Afew sharp, quick words were passed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to theshoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regimentswung from a long straight line into companies, the door rolled open,and without a sound, except the monotonous pound of the regular tread,the regiment passed into the street. At the corner they turned sharply,and marched up a side street, so narrow that the ranks had to breaktheir lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of drum or musicthey passed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling when itparades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence.

  Presently it passed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in astartling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling soundcould be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voicesthat were not pleasant. Peter's wisdom in availing himself of theprotection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.

  A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel's mouth, thescene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue andForty-second Street. Filled even the cut of the entrance to the tunnel.An angry crowd, judging from the sounds.

  A sharp order passed down the ranks, and the many broad lines meltedinto a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It wasgreeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it,but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much bysurprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed todisappear. More and more of the regiment was swallowed up. Finally,except to those who could trace the bright glint of the rifle-barrels,it seemed to have been submerged. Then even the rifles disappeared. Theregiment had passed through the crowd, and was within the station. Peterbreathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty guns, ina parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. Tomarch between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, withball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all thedifference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in apowder magazine.

  The regiment's task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders toclear the streets about the station. After a consultation with thepolice captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of thevarious doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so asto split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed backrendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made from theterminal station, and after two lines of troops had been thrown acrossForty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance. Thus a greattongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue, was pressedback, almost to that street, and held there, without a quarter of themob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar operation wasrepeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and possessionwas taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob and asection pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what wasleft of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down ParkAvenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.

  "I think the worst is done," he told his officers. "Fortunately thecrowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can oncesplit a mob, so that it has no centre, and can't get together again,except by going round the block, you've taken the heart out of it"

  As he said this a soldier came up, and saluting, said: "Captain Moriartyorders me to inform you that a committee of the strikers ask to see you,Colonel."

  Peter followed the messenger. He found a couple of sentries marking aline. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eightpolicemen. On the other stood a group of a dozen men, and back of them,the crowd.

  Peter passed the sentry line, and went up to the group. Three were thecommittee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaperreport of one of the latter We quote the rest:

  "You wish to see me?" asked Colonel Stirling.

  "Yes, Colonel," said Chief Potter. "We are here to remonstrate with you."

  "We've done nothing yet," said Doggett, "and till we had, the troops oughtn't to have been called in."

  "And now people say that the scabs are to be given a regimental escort to the depot, and will go to work at eight."

  "We've been quiet till now," growled a man in the crowd surlily, "but we won't stand the militia protecting the scabs and rats."

  "Are you going to fight for the capitalist?" ask Kurfeldt, when Colonel Stirling stood silent.

  "I am fighting no man's battle, Kurfeldt," replied Colonel Stirling. "I am obeying orders."

  The committee began to look anxious.

  "You're no friend of the poor man, and you needn't pose any more," shouted one of the crowd.

  "Shut your mouth," said Kurfeldt to t
he crowd. "Colonel Stirling," he continued, "we know you're our friend. But you can't stay so if you fight labor. Take your choice. Be the rich man's servant, or our friend."

  "I know neither rich man nor poor man in this," Colonel Stirling said. "I know only the law."

  "You'll let the scabs go on?"

  "I know no such class. If I find any man doing what the law allows him to do, I shall not interfere. But I shall preserve order."

  "Will you order your men to fire on us?"

  "If you break the laws."

  "Do it at your peril," cried Potter angrily. "For every shot your regiment fires, you'll lose a thousand votes on election day."

  Colonel Stirling turned on him, his face blazing with scorn. "Votes," he cried. "Do you think I would weigh votes at such a time? There is no sacrifice I would not make, rather than give the order that ends a human life; and you think that paper ballots can influence my action? Votes compared to men's lives!"

  "Oh," cried Doggett, "don't come the heavy nobility racket on us. We are here for business. Votes is votes, and you needn't pretend you don't think so."

  Colonel Stirling was silent for a moment. Then he said calmly: "I am here to do my duty, not to win votes. There are not votes enough in this country to make me do more or less."

  "Hear him talk," jeered one of the crowd, "and he touting round the saloons to get votes."

  The crowd jeered and hissed unpleasantly.

  "Come, Colonel," said Kurfeldt, "we know you're after votes this year, and know too much to drive them away. You ain't goin' to lose fifty thousand votes, helpin' scabs to take the bread away from us, only to see you and your party licked."

  "No," shouted a man in the crowd. "You don't dare monkey with votes!"

  Colonel Stirling turned and faced the crowd. "Do you want to know how much I care for votes," he called, his head reared in the air.

  "Speak up loud, sonny," shouted a man far back in the mass, "we all want to hear."

  Colonel Stirling's voice rang quite clear enough, "Votes be damned!" he said, and turning on his heel, strode back past the sentries. And the strikers knew the fate of their attempt to keep out the scabs. Colonel Stirling's "damn" had damned the strike as well as the votes.

  Dead silence fell on the committee and crowd. Even Company D. lookedastounded. Finally, however, one of the committee said, "There's no goodwasting time here." Then a reporter said to a confrere, "What a stunningheadline that will make?" Then the Captain of Company D. got his mouthclosed enough to exclaim, "Oi always thought he could swear if he triedhard. Begobs, b'ys, it's proud av him we should be this day. Didn't heswear strong an' fine like? Howly hivens! it's a delight to hear damnsaid like that."

  For some reason that "swear-word" pleased New York and the countrygenerally, showing that even an oath has its purpose in this world, solong as it is properly used. Dean Swift said a lie "was too good to belavished about." So it is of profanity. The crowd understood Peter'sremark as they would have understood nothing else. They understood thatbesides those rifles and bayonets there was something else not to betrifled with. So in this case, it was not wasted.

  And Mr. Bohlmann, Christian though he was, as he read his paper thatevening cried, "Och! Dod Beder Stirling he always does say chust derrighd ding!"