A Spoil of Office: A Story of the Modern WestGarland, Hamlin
General
A Spoil of Office: A Story of the Modern West
Garland, Hamlin
Farmers -- Fiction
"Ah, glad to see you, sir. Glad to see you. Gentlemen, this is the
young man who made that gallant fight up in Rock. This is the Hon.
Jones of Boone, Mr. Talcott, and this is Sam Wells of Cerro Gordo, one
of the most remorseless jokers in the House. Look out for him!"
After shaking hands all about, Bradley hastened to say, "Don't let me
interrupt. Go on, senator. I want to listen." This made a fine
impression on the senator, who loved dearly to hear the sound of his
own voice. He proceeded to enlarge upon his plan for gerrymandering the
state--to the advantage of the Democratic party, of course.
In the talk which followed, Bradley was brought face to face with the
fact that these men were more earnest in maintaining the hold of their
parties upon the offices than principles of legislation. They were not
legislators in any instances; they were gamesters.
"Now, let me tell you something more," said Cargill, as he led his way
back to a settee near the wall. He drew up a chair for his feet,
lighted his cigar, pulled his little soft hat down to the bridge of his
nose, put one thumb behind his vest, and began in a peculiarly sardonic
tone: "Now, here is where the legislation really takes place--here and
at the Iowa House. See those fellows?" He waved his hand in a circle
around the rotunda, now filled with stalwart men laughing loudly or
talking in confidential, deeply interested groups, with their heads
close together. "There are the supposed law-makers of the State. What
do you think of them, anyway?"
Bradley was silent. He was so filled with new sensations and ideas that
he could not talk.
Cargill mused a little. "I suppose it all appears to you as something
very fine and very important. Now, don't make a mistake. The most of
these fellows are not even average men. I have a theory that, take it
one ten years with another, the legislatures of our country must be
necessarily beneath the average, because the man who is a thinker or a
moralist necessarily represents a minority. Anyhow, these men support
my theory, don't they?"
There was a distinct bitterness in his tone that made his words sink
deep. There was a touch of literary grace also in his phrases, quite
unlike anything Bradley had ever heard. "You imagine these men honest.
You say 'they differ from me' honestly. But I know there is no question
of principle in their action. They simply say No. 1 first, party next,
and principle last of all. I remember how awe-struck I was during my
first term. Now, don't waste any nervous energy on admiring these men
or standing in awe of them. Jump right in and take care of yourself.
Vote for party, but make arrangements before you vote--no; I forgot.
You stand for a real principle, and success may lie for you in standing
by it. Yes, on the whole, I believe I would stand by principle; it will
bring you out in greater relief from the rest of them, and then the
people may begin to think. I doubt it, however."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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